


Chasing Through Hell

by Aronim



Series: Running with Your Elders [2]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 200,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4274553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aronim/pseuds/Aronim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maurus, Arianna and Mathias set off for Outland, hoping to pick up the trail of the Dreadlord that almost set both Durotar and Ashenvale aflame. But hunting a single demon in broken Draenor will not be simple, with the three-and-a-half side war going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ratchet Racket

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here is the next part, which will be a good deal more elaborate and quite a bit longer if what I have so far is any indication. It will end up with some canon divergence, but don't worry, my characters will not be the main movers. They are still small fry, though they will get involved in the larger picture. But they will at the most be at the right place at the right time. They will not be dealing the killing blow on anyone enormously important. No original killing canon-critical characters here.
> 
> Might up this to an explicit tag in the future, but mature should do. This will never be porn, but a sexual situation or two will probably pop up. I will try to keep it tasteful.
> 
> I hope you enjoy and I would love to hear what you think of this.

Chasing Through Hell

Ratchet Racket

For the hundredth time, someone bumped into Maurus and he pressed his hand to his side where his purse was hidden under his mail and leather, reassuring himself that the silver and gold was still there. His eyes narrowed into a glare, though it had more to do with the crowd and Ratchet itself than with the one who had jostled him. He was not fond of this city. Most cities confused and discomfited Maurus to some extent, claustrophobic and loud as they all were, but Ratchet had both Orgrimmar and especially Thunderbluff beat in that regard. The roads snaked through the city, widening and narrowing without rhythm and crisscrossing with only the vaguest sort logic, coming together into an irregular web that seemed spun by a drunk spider. Only the main road was straight, cutting a wide path through the city to the docks and that was useless unless you came had a ship waiting when you arrived in the city. The buildings loomed overhead, stitched together from metal and wood into ugly, rickety structures that always looked like they were on the verge of collapsing down on the crowded street.

All of Ratchet reverberated with the grating drone of industry, the shriek of metal, the buzz and crackle of fire and lightning and the occasional boom. The smoke belched from wobbly chimneys fouled the air, adding a heavy, burnt stench to the cloud of sweat and dust on the air and making the sky of the fading day look like blood and ash.

Ratchet was a warning of what the so-called civilized races could do to the pristine lands of Kalimdor. Some praised the enterprising nature of the goblins and he would not deny the brilliance and skill of goblins but he had already seen what they could do when they worked in force. Every time he saw a  _Venture Co._ sign, his stomach twisted and his jaw clenched.

He pushed through the crowd to turn down a narrow street, his stride lengthening and getting more relaxed when he no longer had bodies pressed up against him. There were still a lot of people between the buildings, but now that they could, they seemed as eager to keep their distance as Maurus was.

There weren't a lot of businesses on this particular street. He passed between an engineering workshop and a smithy, the only thing distinguishing one from the other being the strange goggles hanging outside the workshop and further in there was a shop filled with all manner of small animals, proudly declaring itself  _"Best Pet Store, no dead parrots, guaranteed"_. There was another busy street ahead, past five regular houses, but thankfully, he only had to turn the corner to get to the door of  _"The Open Spigot"._  The inn and the surrounding street was one of the few things he liked about Ratchet. Much could be said of the city, but the booming business and the constant change in populace made for an interesting night life.

The inside of the inn was much like most others. Everything was made from solid wood, worn and scratched and stained by years of spilled drinks. Only the occasional splash of paint and the brightly colored bottles behind the counter broke the monotony of the dark wood, though the room was brightened considerably by the green and blue skin and hair in all the colors of the rainbow. In one corner a large, round target hung, dotted with holes and the occasional knife or axe, like the wall around it. Where the inn differed from most inns Maurus knew was illumination. The lanterns glowed with a pale golden glow, completely steady unlike the oil lamps or torches used in most of the world and he was sure that if Ratchet would ever do him the courtesy of going quiet, he would be able to hear their low buzzing. Like all the inns in Ratchet these days, it was crowded. Almost every seat was filled and a lot more people filled the floor, crowding around the tables where their friends sat. The air inside was not as tainted by smog, but was instead flavored with the scent of several types of pipeweed and the sour smell of old beer and wine, much more welcome smells in Maurus' opinion.

The rumble of conversation beat back the noise from outside and somewhere to the right, a gaggle of orcs, goblins, tauren and trolls were stumbling through 'Rogues do it from behind'. The corners of Maurus' mouth turned up just slightly at the bawdy song and he made his way to the counter and with a bit of rough shoving, managed to get close enough to slam a hand on the table.

"Wine," he barked at the fat, apron-clad goblin behind the counter. The goblin handed a large mug to another patron as he looked Maurus up and down with his bulbous eyes.

"What's the magic word?" he said archly.

"Screw you, Nott," he said, allowing a full smile to appear on his face. He dug out a few pieces of copper from a different purse he had hanging in his belt and laid them on the sticky counter. Nott again looked him up and down.

"Not the magic word coming from you," he said glibly. He bent down, rummaging under the counter and came up with three bottles of wine. "But it does make me want to get you out of my face." He handed Maurus the bottles. "So, here."

"What, no glass?"

"Since when have you needed glasses? You chug that spill," Nott said, already turning around to answer another customer. Maurus shrugged, conceding the point even though Nott had his back to him now, and turned in the direction he'd seen a flash of blond hair. He shoved his way to the table, almost in the corner of the inn, where Arianna sat, studying a small, black book. Her staff was lying on the table next to her, next to an empty mug.

Mathias sat at opposite end of the bench from Arianna, facing two orcs and a grey tauren across the table. The trio was clad in red and brown leathers and their hair were in similar long braids, like thick rope. The thick muscles of their arms, bare from the elbows down, were tight with tension and their gaze was intent on the hand Mathias had pressed to the table, fingers spread wide. A rapid beat sounded as he stabbed a small knife into the table between his fingers in a rapid rhythm. There was a definite order to where the knife impacted, but Maurus couldn't quite see what it was at the speed Mathias was going. Mathias gave him a nod before he turned his gaze back to the trio opposite him, smiling smugly. Maurus found it a little disturbing how he so readily looked away from his game of pinfinger.

He edged past Mathias' opponents, who hardly reacted and sat down opposite Arianna in the vacant spot there, shrugging his bag off his shoulders to put it next to the bench. It was mildly odd that there would even be an open spot in the crowded tavern, but he had only just thought that thought when his leg brushed against fur and scales and he realized Ash was lying under the table. That was ample explanation for the open spot.

He put the bottles on the table and Arianna lowered her book, tilting her head in greeting. "Evening," he said. She pushed her mug forward silently and he raised an eyebrow. "Who says it's for you?"

"Previous experience," she said. "We've been pretty much sharing our 'loot'," she added, saying the last word like she was tasting something strange. Maurus sniffed, pulled the cork from one bottle and poured some of the almost black liquid in her mug. He glanced to Mathias' side, but he looked busy, so he just took a swig from the bottle. It was a very rich wine, one he'd had a hard time getting anywhere but Ratchet, though it was pretty cheap here, and it seemed to wash some of the bad taste of Ratchet away.

"How long has he been doing that?" he asked, gesturing at Mathias with the bottle.

"Long enough that they will soon be reduced to wagering their gear," she said before drinking deeply of her mug. "Though it wasn't knifing in the beginning."

Out the corner of his eye he saw Mathias handing over the knife. The orc in the middle was glaring darkly at Mathias who just smirked and flicked his eyes down to the table. The orc put a hand down next to a cup filled with dice and put the knife down below his thumb. The dark green fingers were already spotted with little specks of blood.

Maurus rolled his eyes as the beat of metal on wood began, quickly getting faster. He had nothing against at good little wager, but he cared too much about his fingers to engage in that sport. He took another swig from the bottle and watched the knife getting faster. The orc was doing well, though Mathias didn't look worried. His smile even widened a fraction when the orc looked up at him.

"Rogues do it-" Mathias said, trailing off as his eyes moved from the orc's face to a point just past his shoulder. Alarm flittered over the orc's face and his friends half-turned, just as the orc winced when the knife came down, cutting through the outside of his pointer finger. The knife clattered on the table as the orc looked over his shoulder and saw nothing but the same crowded room.

"What the hell was that?" the orc snarled, squeezing his injured finger with his other hand.

"It's a catchy song, don't you think?" Mathias said. He looked at the orc's hand. "Seems you lost again."

"You tricked me!" the orc retorted through clenched teeth.

"Come now," Mathias said, glancing around the room, "you can hardly say I'm more distracting than the entire tavern. It isn't quite a library is it?" A flicker of confusion went over the orc's face, mirroring Maurus own. Mathias continued before he could answer: "Now pay up."

Maurus could almost hear the orc's fingers crack. He looked ready to leap over the table to strangle Mathias. Instead, he sprang to his feet and slammed a coin down on the table.

"I hope the naga sinks your ship," he growled and the trio gave Mathias murderous glares before they stalked off. Mathias picked up the knife and the coin and moved a feet closer to Arianna and Maurus.

"You're not making a lot of friends," Maurus commented. Mathias held up the gold coin between two fingers.

"Can't be friends with the whole world, " Mathias said, flipping the coin over his knuckles. "And they shouldn't have bet if they couldn't do without the money."

"You could do without though," Maurus answered. "We're not exactly poor at the moment."

"More never hurts. Spending some wouldn't hurt either, Outland sounds like a whole different beast than Kalimdor."

"We're leaving in the morning," Maurus said. Mathias stopped playing with the gold coin and his expression turned serious.

"Finally," he muttered. Arianna turned a flat look on him and closed her book.

"You're the reason we didn't leave with the ships that left the day after we arrived here," she said bluntly. Mathias grunted in annoyance, but didn't argue and when Arianna looked at Maurus, there was a distinctly pleased look in her eyes. She gestured for him to continue.

"We're paying through the nose," he grumbled, "but that gives us a cabin rather than having us sleep in the hold."

"Extravagant," Arianna said, raising an eyebrow. "A little more so than when I came west." Mathias gave him a questioning look and Maurus snorted in annoyance. He hadn't expected any reaction except maybe a little pleased surprise to them getting just a bit more room than planned.

"I just might begin throwing people overboard if I have to sleep in a room as packed as theses streets are," he said darkly before drinking deeply of the wine. "I think this was a better option."

"When you put it like that," Arianna said lightly, pushing her mug forward again. He raised an eyebrow but filled it again and handed the flask to Mathias. His eyes fell on the book in front of her and a thought occurred to him, one that he felt guilty for not remembering sooner.

"Before you get too drunk," he began. An affronted expression settled on Arianna's face, but it shifted into surprise when he continued: "I guess you know how to write?"

"Yes?"

"Could you help me write a letter?" he asked, reaching into his bag and grabbing a piece of parchment, a little jug of oil and a harpy feather.

"Of course," Arianna said, a slight question in the answer.

"I'm not very good with letters," he explained, pushing the writing supplies across the table. Instead of taking them, Arianna rose and walked across the table to sit beside him. Then she picked up the ruddy red quill with an absent motion and dipped it in the ink while she smoothed out the parchment with her other hand.

"I thought it better you didn't have to shout your letter across the table," she said in answer to his questioning look. He tilted his head in acknowledgement, opened the second bottle of wine and had another mouthful, cleared his throat and began: "To my honored Mother and Father-"

Mathias jerked to his feet, making him pause in surprise.

"I'll see if I can't make my winnings multiply," he said, stalking off with the first bottle, now half-empty. Maurus stared after him for a moment before turning back to Arianna, who held the quill ready.

He gathered his thoughts and continued: "I hope this letter finds you well. By the time it reaches you, I expect the news have reached you that the Dark Portal has opened. Your wayward son is going on a hunt and I expect it will take me beyond this world." He stopped, considering his words and watched with some admiration how fast the quill darted over the parchment. When Arianna's hand stilled he'd found the words again. "It will be some time before you see me again, but I will return triumphant and bring you back a trophy that will truly make you proud, taken from a foe both fierce and deserving of death." Again he paused, feeling his voice turn a little rough and took another drink as he waited for his voice to feel steady again. "Till then, I pray the spirits will watch over you. May the earth always carry you to water and shade. Your devoted son, Maurus."

He drank again as Arianna finished writing and, without prompting, read the letter aloud. She'd changed a word or two if he hadn't already forgotten what he'd said, but it sounded like it should. She touched a drop of ink next to his name before she rolled up the parchment and tied it with a little red ribbon he hadn't noticed before then.

"Thanks," he said when she laid the letter in front of him. Something heavy seemed to settle in his chest at the sight of it. It seemed to make the coming journey more real. "We're really going to Outland," he said quietly, as he packed away the writing utensils.

"Assuming Mathias' friends don't get their wish," Arianna said. Her voice was nonchalant, but there was something else in it that he couldn't quite place. One of her hands drifted idly along the dark wood of her staff.

He made an effort to shake off his trepidation. "That means this will be our last night in Ratchet for a while," he said, raising the bottle, "and there are lots where this came from."

Arianna gently bumped her mug against his bottle, drained her glass and reached for the third bottle. As she opened it, he asked: "What do you know about it?"

Arianna's knowledge of the orcs' old homeland was based on the stories of the few elves that had made it back from the exodus, but he still learned much more about it in the following hour. The way she described it, it didn't seem as much of a demon-infested hellhole as he'd expected. It still sounded barely inhabitable though and he found himself wondering how different it had been before the demons came. He'd never met an orc old enough to remember it and he wasn't sure he'd dared to ask if he did.

He noted with some surprise that Arianna kept pace with him pretty well, drinking a good share of the wine and when the bottles were empty, much faster than expected, they made their way to the bar. Somewhere along the line, the conversation wandered from Outland to Desolace.

"A kodo graveyard?" Arianna asked, wrinkling her nose. "I can't imagine the smell." She was leaning on the counter, her staff between them, her mug of wine raised in front of her. Ash lay behind them, much less effective at keeping people at bay now that they were where the booze was served.

"It's a sacred place," Maurus half-grumbled, giving her what was supposed to be a playful shove, but she had to take a step back not to fall over and wine splashed out over the counter. He jerked his hand out to catch her, but she'd already steadied herself when he got a grip on her shoulder, giving him a slight glare. He grinned a little sheepishly.

"It isn't somewhere you stay longer than you have to," he admitted, noticing the slight numbness in his fingers and the looseness in his arms for the first time. "It's-

He trailed off when he caught a glimpse of horns and dark wings behind Arianna. His pulse quickened for a moment before he noticed that the lithe winged shape was wrapped around a robed orc in a very affectionate way.

"What?" she asked, pushing his hand off her shoulder so she could turn in the direction of his gaze. He shrugged.

"Just spotted one of your fellows," he said. "He seems to know how to get hold of the more sensual demons."

"So do I," Arianna huffed irritably, turning back to Maurus. He tilted his head and raised the bottle to his lips again.

"I thought you couldn't, in the mountain?"

"That was hardly the best time," she snapped, resting her elbows on the counter. "And I wasn't getting the missing component in  _that_  crowd," she muttered into her mug.

"Huh?" Maurus asked. Arianna turned her head on her side and looked at him. There was a bit of color in her cheeks now and he silently counted how many bottles they'd had between them. Four. Or something like that. He turned the bottle in his hand upside down and only a single drop of wine dropped onto the counter.

"Could we forget that I mentioned that?" Arianna groaned as Maurus dug up a coin and held it out for a server to see.

"What were you missing," he asked slowly, smirking. She rolled her eyes, but he simply held her gaze and after a few seconds she muttered: "Felhounds are blood hounds. So blood goes into the summoning."

Maurus nodded as his coin was snatched from his hand and a bottle was placed next to his arm.

"Succubi," Arianna said, drawing out the word expectantly, making a circular motion with her free hand. Comprehension eluded Maurus for a few moments, but then his eyes darted to the orc warlock over in the corner and back to Arianna. He remembered one of the sessions with the shamans in the tribe, when they talked about symbolic links and sympathetic magic.

He burst out laughing. "To get that," he managed, pointing a finger vaguely in the direction of the orc and his succubus, "you have to-"

Arianna gave a little nod and smiled, seemingly in spite of herself.

"Seems to defeat the purpose," he chuckled. After a moment, Arianna let out a short, low laugh.

"I never considered that," she said. Maurus gave her a look, both eyebrows raised.

"Sure you didn't," he said, looking across the bar. On the corner opposite them, he spotted Mathias sitting between two other forsaken, a small flask of brown liquid in front of him. He was about to raise his bottle in salute when he noticed the crowd around Mathias draw back to admit two familiar orcs. He rose to his feet and Arianna tilted her head slightly in question.

"Sore losers," he muttered, jerking a thumb in the direction of Mathias before he began making his way around the counter. The crowd was thick and stubborn, not very willing to allow him passage. With his height though, he had had little trouble seeing over the crowd when the front orc, the one who had lost the last game, spun Mathias around. He clearly heard the shout, slightly slurred: "Give me my money, you cheat!"

Mathias raised his hand and said loudly: "I only have my money. But you can have a drink." He laid his hand on the counter and opened it, revealing a handful of silver. "In fact, everyone gets a round!"

A roar of approval went up at the announcement as Maurus reached the edge of the crowd. A small space had been cleared around Mathias and his two assailants and there was a buzz of excitement in the air.

"That's my money you're using!" the orc shouted, grabbing Mathias with both hands. Mathias just grinned his rictus grin, seemingly unconcerned, despite the other orc moving close, his hands closing into fists.

"Make it two, barkeep!" he called out, as Maurus walked up behind the orcs. Mathias didn't look at him and the orcs didn't seem to notice until he slammed a hand down on the shoulder of the shouting orc and pulled so he had to lean backward to avoid falling.

"I'd take the drink," Maurus said lowly, glaring down at the orc's upside down face. The orc returned the glare, a hint of surprise in his brown eyes, before his snarl changed into a slight smirk as he looked to Maurus' left. He turned slightly, only then noticing the hard stomp of hooves and rocked backwards when a fist connected with his face. His muzzle numb, yet throbbing dully, he backed a few steps, seeing the orc fall to his back out the corner of his eye as Mathias leapt at the other orc. He was more concerned with the tauren in front of him though. He had been more focused on the orc when Mathias had been playing pinfinger, but now he got a proper look at the grey tauren. He was slightly shorter than Maurus and just slightly leaner, but he stood heavily on the floor. His leathers were faded and worn, but very well-crafted from what Maurus could tell and the few places they had been patched showed skillful work. His horns rose from his head in a slight curve, the color of bleached bones, scratched, but whole and well-cared for. There were a few scars on his forearms, easy to spot with how he had his hands raised up to just under muzzle where a thick steel ring pierced his nose. The sight made the scar on Maurus' own nose tingle under the blood running from one nostril.

"That's my friend, Grimtotem," the tauren growled, speaking the tribe name like a curse as he lashed out. Maurus blocked the punches with his forearms, hardly feeling them.

"What's wrong with the Grimtotem?" he asked darkly, forgetting both Mathias and the fact that the tauren had his tribe wrong. He lunged to the side before sending two blows into the side of his opponent and stepping back out of reach.

"You're fanatics, stuck in the past," the tauren snarled, attacking again. Maurus blocked and dodged the first three strikes, but the fourth and fifth got past his defense and dug into his stomach. He exhaled sharply, his stomach aching from the blow but he felt a spark of vindictive satisfaction when the other tauren winced. If nothing else, wearing the mail today made it painful to punch him.

"You'd rather the Venture Co. have free reign to level the mountains? Poison the water?" he asked as they went round in a slow circle. To his right, Mathias was holding the two orcs at bay and he noticed that the crowd was watching with rapt interest.

"I'm at least not stupid enough to fight poison by getting help from plaguebrewers!" the tauren spat when he noticed what Maurus had looked at. The words hit him harder than the physical blows had, dredging up a memory he'd rather forget. Again his eyes flicked to Mathias and the inattention cost him when the tauren lunged forward. He kicked forward into Maurus' shin and punched him in the side twice before Maurus pushed him off, getting an elbow to the side of the head in the process.

The pain shook him out of the moment of disquiet and anger overrode any other emotions he felt. He stormed forward, batted aside one punch and took the other on his right shoulder before he reached for the tauren's face.

"You're stupid enough to have that," he snarled, one finger looping around the nose ring. "And this", he added, grabbing hold of one of the braids with his other hand. He pulled hard on both and the tauren was forced to follow as he spun. He released the hold after a full turn and his opponent was half-hurled away from him to crash into a table. Mugs, bottles and glasses were launched into the air as the table tipped. The patrons leapt back to avoid the splash of beer, wine and other drinks, barreling into the people around them and a moment later, one of the spectators threw the first punch. Like a wave, fighting erupted through the crowd and by the time Maurus had turned around and made his way back to Mathias, who was still fighting the two orcs, the inn was in a riot. He felt the strange exhilaration that often accompanied anger and he grinned at Mathias when he grabbed the orc again, this time with both hands. The surprise in the orc's expression as he hurled him backwards made him bark out a laugh.

The crowd closed around them, a tumultuous whirl of bodies and noise and Maurus lost himself in the brawl, side by side with Mathias. His blood pumped through his veins, his muscles felt loose and ready and there was a buzz in his whole body. He punched a troll into the side of a different tauren, almost fell over an orc and saw a goblin flying, shrieking, through the air. Not long after that, from where he'd fallen on the floor, he saw a troll fly in the opposite direction before he was helped up from the floor by two green hands and shoved towards another tauren.

He laughed and roared and punched and wrestled, his movement through the crowd only half his own choice. He had ended up back at the table he'd toppled with the other tauren at the beginning of the brawl when a boom and a blinding flash of light suddenly lit up the room. He reeled back, both from the assault on his senses and from the kick to his stomach from a goblin who had launched herself from the toppled table. The noise died down unevenly, but swiftly. Where the air had been alive with noise a moment ago, now there was only the rapid breathing of the crowd, the clatter of a single, miraculously intact bottle rolling across the floor and the ringing in Maurus' ears.

As he blinked spots from his eyes, he heard someone near the door exclaim drunkenly: "Damned groinbiters!"

"I heard that," a squeaky, but distinctly male voice said in a deceptively pleasant tone. The words were followed by a loud crack and a pained wail and the crowd parted quickly, allowing the five goblins to walk through the open space towards Maurus. They were clad head to toe in mail and all five carried a spiked mace, half as long as they were tall. Four had their weapon casually slung over their shoulders, but the fifth one was lifting it from the broken leg of a whimpering orc near the door. The entire group carried themselves with the assurance of someone several times their size.

People called Ratchet's bruisers groinbiters, but only the stupid did so to their faces. Every single one of them was a mean little crazy who would gladly crush the kneecaps of those that annoyed them and the skulls of anyone who they decided deserved it. And they did, in fact, live up to the name occasionally, if the rumors were true, which was a horrifying experience for all involved.

"Hey there, hero," the front goblin said as he came to a halt in front of Maurus. His expression was one of casual interest but his eyes locked on Maurus with dark intensity and his words had only the thinnest sheen of friendliness. His nose was crooked, one ear had a large chunk of it missing and his face was blemished with shallow, healed craters. Despite his size, the scars made him look grizzled, not ridiculous.

Maurus knew not to underestimate goblins and he knew this one. For the second time that night, he recalled an ill-advised undertaking a few years back and something twisted in his stomach. It came out as anger.

"Don't call me that, Sprack," he growled. He'd hoped to avoid any bruisers that actually knew him. Ratchet was a big city; it should have been possible, even if this visit had drawn out more than usual. But it had to be this one that appeared.

Sprack ignored the protest and drawled: "I don't know if this is a step up from your Grimtotem buddies." Maurus followed Sprack's gaze and saw that Anistriana and Mathias had appeared at to his left. Mathias looked ruffled, his nose bent oddly and a there might have been a cracked tooth that had been whole before. Arianna looked like she'd avoided the brawl but looked irritated. They both looked ready and able to support him though.

"Cutting out the middleman and dealing straight with the plaguebrewer this time?" Sprack asked. Maurus clenched his fists, the twisting in his gut making him feel sick.

"I'm not of the Society," Mathias said, before Maurus managed to find any words. He put a hand on the pommel of his sword and added: "I go for the simpler approach."

"Good, good," Sprack said casually. His eyes narrowed. "Then again, that's what you'd say either way, right?" Mathias shrugged, showing no concern, despite the hard stares the goblins directed at him. Maurus noted that the two forsaken Mathias had been drinking with had now joined them, leveling the cold stares only the forsaken were able to make on the goblins.

Sprack turned to Arianna and looked her up and down, pausing at the top of her staff, which seemed to glow more brightly than usual, before his gaze came to rest on Ash standing at her feet, growling low in his throat. He smiled, a white crescent without any warmth. "And a warlock. For a defender of the natural world," he said, sneering the three last words, "you sure choose funny friends."

Maurus finally found his voice and ground out: "I choose my friends carefully, Sprack."

"Doesn't look like it," Sprack said flatly. He glanced around the bar, at the overturned chairs and table, the bruised and battered patrons and the shards of glass and clay littering the floor. He slung his mace down in front of him so he could hold it with both hands and his men followed his example. Maurus put a hand on his own mace. The crowd around them held its breath and he thought he could feel Arianna draw up magic. "Doesn't look like you know how things work anymore either," Sprack continued as all trace of civility fled from his face, leaving no expression except for the naked hatred in his eyes. Maurus' finger closed around his own mace as Sprack tightened his grip on his. "Might be you should hobble out of the city after we've refreshed your memory."

"Sprack, relax!" Nott's voice cut through the tension like a knife and Sprack jerked his gaze away from Maurus to the goblin that had waddled to his side, unnoticed by either. "Do you have a screw loose, Sprack? If we have less than a couple of brawls in a week, it's slow going. This isn't an offence worthy of getting worked over by you, is it?"

Nott glanced up at Maurus, grinning smugly. "Particularly when I know that he can pay for the damages. Right, big guy?"

Maurus looked down at the innkeeper, too stunned to answer for a moment, and then nodded slowly. Nott's smile widened and he turned back to Sprack, spreading his arms in a friendly, conciliatory gesture.

"See, no problem. The worst that happened here are glass stuck where it shouldn't and some broken bones, and one of the latter is on you people."

"If that is what you want, Nott. It's your inn," Sprack said flatly. He turned his gaze on Maurus and Mathias and added: "If I catch you near any of the wells, broken bones will be the least of your worries. You'll thank me by the time I put you up next to the pirates."

With that, he turned and walked out the inn. Maurus' gaze followed the goblin, his anger ebbing away, leaving him feeling simply drained.

Nott poked Maurus in the side and he winced as the bruise forming under the mail protested. "You can pay, right?" he asked seriously. Maurus nodded again. "Good," Nott said, nodding to himself. "It seemed that way from how your friend was spending, but, just making sure."

He noticed the still silent crowd and resolutely walked over to Mathias. "Now, this here fella," he said, clapping a hand onto Mathias shoulder, "promised two rounds."

The crowd again shouted in approval, though it sounded weaker than before, many of the voices hoarse or muddled by broken noses or sore throats. Nott held up a finger.

"But nobody gets anything before everything you lot knocked over is right side up again!"

The sound of wood scraping on wood filled the in along with a rising din of conversation as the bruised and battered patrons righted tables and chairs.

"They fight over spilled beer, but promise them more and they do as they're told," Nott chuckled. The comment failed to brighten Maurus' mood. He turned and looked down on Nott.

"I'll pay you in the morning," he muttered.

One of Mathias' forsaken friends tilted his head. "What about happened to those other three? They had a hand in this too," he said, half to Maurus, half to Nott.

The innkeeper shook his head and Maurus sighed but Mathias spoke before either, his tone rather smug: "I won all their money."

"Not enough that they couldn't get too intoxicated to consider their actions properly," Arianna said.

"I tried," Mathias said. His tone was casual, but the quick look he gave Maurus betrayed some curiosity. "But I earn my money, I don't mug Horde." His eyes followed Nott as he waddled back towards the bar. "Speaking of money, let's spend some more."

Maurus shook his head and put a hand on Mathias' shoulder and his other on Arianna's. "I'm done for tonight," he sighed, "thank you for the help."

With that, he turned, ignoring Arianna's curious gaze, and made his way across the room, grabbing his bag before trudging up the stairs to the room their room.


	2. Wistful Voyage

Chasing Through Hell

Wistful Voyage

Maurus was leaning on the railing of the  _"Green Boar",_ looking back toward the land he had been born in as the ship made its way out of the bay. The sun shone down on the Barrens, turning the hills and plains beyond gold. The water sparkled silver and sapphire, and Ratchet's ugly streets were partially obscured by the hundreds of sails in the harbor, hiding metal, soot and steel behind a riot of color, greens, blues, even purple and very prominently, various shades of red. The smell of salt and seaweed, wood and tar filled his nostrils, soft and gentle compared to the suffocating smell of smog and smoke and too many people, which he'd breathed the last week. The groan of wood, creaking of sails, the lazy slosh of the waves and even the shriek of the seagulls seemed to caress his ears after the forceful drone of Ratchet's industry.

Maurus' mood wasn't as bright as the day. The encounter with Sprack and the memories it had stirred still lingered in the back of his mind, sore like an old wound that had been ripped open, and the sight of the shore slowly growing more distant put a hollow feeling in his gut. A whisper of fear crawled along his skin and through his body, as light yet impossible to ignore as the tread of a spider.

On his right, Arianna leaned against the railing, her head resting in her right hand. The mild breeze coming off the shore played with a strand of hair and made her ponytail sway slightly. She seemed lost in thought, her slightly narrowed eyes unfocused, as she idly traced circles on the rough wood with her left hand. For once, her staff was not within her reach and its absence and that of Ash, was jarring. The felhound had not been welcome on the ship so he'd been sent back to the Nether and with how packed the ship was, that was probably for the best, but it was still an odd sight. Many passengers stood along the railing as well, looking back at the city they had left with expressions ranging from boredom, to excitement to trepidation.

"It's a wonder we were able to get out of the harbor." Mathias' voice was hoarse, but otherwise he gave no sign that he hadn't gotten any sleep. He was on Maurus' other side, a flask of wine in his hand. Maurus nodded absently, his eyes again trailing over the myriad ships still in the harbor. From here they looked like a solid wall of wood, upon which grew the most colorful forest he'd ever seen.

"You missed out on a good night," Mathias continued. "I tripled my winnings after the fight."

"So you paid Nott," Maurus muttered, glancing toward Mathias just in time to catch him nodding. That explained why the innkeeper had refused payment for the damages earlier, saying it was fine though still taking a good handful of copper for handling Maurus' letter.

"Any of your victims on the boat?" Maurus asked, looking around him at all the strangers on the deck. He really didn't want to have to watch out for sore losers the next month and a half.

"I honestly have no idea," Mathias said nonchalantly. He leaned forward, a little stiffly, to look past Maurus to Arianna. "You should ask the elf too, she also won herself some money."

Maurus grunted and shrugged and Arianna didn't even react.

"You're not very lively today and you're the one who got a night's sleep," Mathias mused. "Still hung up on what that snot stain said?"

"No," Maurus grumbled, only half-lying. On his other side, Arianna tilted her head just slightly while Mathias raised a wispy, dry eyebrow. Maurus snorted irritably and shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't look that way," Mathias said bluntly. Then he lifted the wine bottle to his lips and upended it, before throwing it overboard and turning his back to the sea.

Maurus sighed and turned his head to Arianna. "So,  _are_ there anyone on the ship we should look out for?" he asked, mostly just to change the subject.

"None that I have noticed," she answered, sounding bored.

"Then again, her memory might be as hazy as mine," Mathias said lazily, turning his back to the railing, putting his weight on his elbows and leaning backwards so he could still see both his companions. "As I recall, you outdrank a shaman last night, a tauren one."

Maurus looked Arianna up and down. He would never deny that she was tough as bone, but as thin and small as she was, he could hardly believe that she could keep up with a tauren.

"Really?" he said, a chuckle bursting from his lips at the thought. She seemed to drag herself out of whatever she'd been thinking of and nodded, a smile appearing on her lips. Maurus whistled before asking: "How are you standing?"

"Weak constitution on his part, I presume," she said, though her expression was slightly smug, almost proud. That she would take pride in that seemed odd somehow and he chuckled again.

"What about the other three you outlasted?" Mathias asked. "That also a fluke?"

Maurus felt his eyebrows rise as he took that in, still looking at Arianna.

"The goblins make thin wine," she said half-heartedly.

"And that was before the knife-throwing, wasn't it?" Mathias said. Maurus quickly looked from Mathias and back to Arianna.

"Why didn't you cut loose the other nights? I missed out," Maurus laughed, clapping a hand on her shoulder. She winced and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Oh, that's why," he said. He padded his belt and found the pouch he usually used for small amount of food. Today, it only contained one wizened, twisted root, the color of bone. "This should help," he said, holding it out to Arianna. She looked at it suspiciously.

"Well, I didn't end up needing it. Might as well put it to use."

"What about me?" Mathias asked, feigning an affronted tone and giving Maurus a mock glare. "I feel all neglected."

"You don't get hangovers, do you?" Maurus asked, then added: "There should be enough; it's a dosage for me after all."

The irritated expression on Mathias face vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "True," he admitted easily, studying his right hand curiously. "And I wouldn't be needing it for a while yet anyway."

Maurus turned back to Arianna, who still hadn't taken his offering. "I tried your demon magic," he said reasonably. "And it's not only tauren who use this, if that's what you're worried about. Just take a good bite."

Still looking skeptical, she took the root. The look of surprise on her face when she realized how tough it was made Maurus' lips twitch in a smirk, one that got wider when she had to gnaw on it for a few moments before she managed to rip a chunk off it. It simply clashed with her usual air of dignity.

"That should take the worst of it," Maurus said. "Keep the rest, I'll see if there is some work they can use my help with."

With that, he turned and walked away. His dour mood had been considerably improved by that conversation and Maurus silently thanked Mathias for that. The darker thoughts still lurked in his mind, but the empty feeling in his stomach had almost vanished. He was determined to keep his spirits up. Otherwise, it was going to be a very long trip.

* * *

Green fire danced in the black armor and the same flame filled the eyes which looked at him with cruel intent. The dreadlord smiled.

"Take him to the summoning room. We still have use for him."

The felguards stepped towards Maurus and he tried to move, tried to scream, but he was frozen, his muscles numb and unresponsive. He could do nothing but watch as the demons reached for him and their blue hands clamped down on his shoulders like twin vises.

His eyes snapped open and he sucked in a startled breath. The world under him lurched alarmingly and his hands shot out to either side, trying to find something to brace against. His left hand found only air but his right hand flattened against a wooden wall and he managed to steady himself enough to look around in confusion. His heart beat furiously as he glanced dazedly around the small, dark room but after a few moments, the feel of rough wood against his palm and canvas against his bare back cleared his muddled thoughts and he recognized where he was, the cramped little cabin they'd paid for. Above him, swinging gently, was another hammock, and the faint outline in the fabric told him Arianna was still fast asleep. That was a small mercy. Some nights, when she'd happened to be awake, she'd woken him from the nightmares, but seeing eyes green with fel fire was the last thing he needed when he woke from these nightmares. Several times, only her quick reflexes had allowed her to avoid his fists when he'd groggily lashed out. As grateful as he was for her cutting his nightmares short, he'd rather she let him be and avoid the risk of injury.

She hadn't stopped her from waking him though and he'd returned the favor by nudging her hammock whenever she began turning and tossing too much for her sleep to be restful. It never failed to stop her thrashing.

Mathias' hammock, placed in extension of his own, was empty, like it had been almost every night of the trip, only the bags beside it betraying that there was anyone using the room beside Maurus and Arianna.

His heart still thudded in his chest and the nervous electricity running through his body told him he wasn't going to get back to sleep anytime soon so, with a sigh, he turned and carefully put his hooves down on the floor to avoid disturbing Arianna. He rose, picking up his mace in the same motion and took two short steps to the door and opened it as quietly as he could, fumbled his way through the hold and climbed up to upper deck. There was little activity on the deck, only the bare minimum needed to keep a steady course, and the night was quiet, with only the rustle of the wind and the creak of sail and ship disturbing the silence. It was only just now he realized how noisy and smelly the hold was, practically rumbling with snores and heavy with the smell of unwashed bodies.

He immediately spotted Mathias. He was sitting with his back against the railing, his sword resting in his lap, head tilted backwards, stretching out the wounds in his throat. His face was slack, empty, displaying neither the sardonic amusement nor the intensity it usually did and his milky eyes stared into the sky.

Maurus walked over to Mathias and put his hands on the railing, taking in the sight. Sky and sea bled together into a dark, all-encompassing void that seemed to only contain them and the other ships around them and the myriad of stars above were mirrored in the water, making it seem like they sailed through the night sky itself. The sight was both beautiful and frightening, so very alien to him, even after weeks at sea and the homesickness, which had faded to almost nothing over the weeks, became a little stronger at the reminder of how far away he was from what he knew. He stood there in silence for a few moments, looking down at the glint of light on the waves, before he glanced at Mathias again. He didn't seem to have even noticed Maurus' presence.

"You've made yourself scarce," Maurus said finally. It was true. He'd hardly seen Mathias after the first few days on the ship, quite a feat considering the size of the ship and especially the size of their cabin. In the silence that followed his question, he looked out into the darkness again. Some distance away, a little to his right, two dots of light, warmer than the surrounding pin-pricks of light, revealed the ends of the ship at the rear of the group.

"I seem to recall you saying that I wouldn't make any friends by winning money," Mathias finally answered, the words coming out quietly, dispassionately. "Thought I'd stay on the good side of the ship by not fleecing them all."

Maurus frowned and it took him a moment to recall when exactly he'd said that. "That was weeks ago. You didn't seem to take it to heart."

"Garm always said I was slow," Mathias said quietly. He was limp, his gaze vacant. He hadn't moved, hadn't even changed expression. Maurus completely forgot the lingering unease from his recent nightmare and the hollow in his stomach. Instead, something heavy settled in his chest as he remembered the spray of blood and Mathias' heartbroken cry.

"How long did you know him?" he asked quietly.

Still Mathias didn't move. "Light's Grace, years," he said, just a hint of emotion seeping into the words. "Met him just after we joined the Horde. He visited the Tirisfal with some other shamans. First orc I met who didn't seem disgusted. Of course he was blind drunk, but still."

' _From how you describe those lands, I would have gotten drunk too,'_  Maurus thought, but he didn't let the rude thought show on his face. He just gave Mathias an encouraging nod.

"Most people are disconcerted by this," he continued gesturing to the holes in his throat. "Garm thought it was brilliant. Said it just meant I could drink even the worst booze without having to taste it." As he spoke, muscle moved around bits of exposed spine and Maurus forced down a slight, oily nausea. It had taken him a long time to get used to the walking dead, especially the fact that many of them were now allies and he was usually able to ignore their injuries, but it was harder when they were pointed out. Garm apparently had a stronger stomach and a disgusting sense of humor but Maurus still felt his lips quirk upwards a bit.

Mathias continued: "More than that, he was the first person I'd met since my rebirth who seemed genuinely happy. Our lands discomfort the living." He raised an eyebrow and Maurus got the feeling he hadn't kept a straight face as well as he'd thought. "And back then, even the most cheerful of us had an edge to their smiles."

He paused for a heartbeat.

"Of course, most of us still do," he admitted, echoing Maurus' thoughts. "But joining the Horde was the best that ever happened to us." He ran a hand through his straw-like hair and sighed. "I should have stayed and buried him. Honored him properly and told his family in person, not through a damn letter."

Maurus turned and slid down next to Mathias before he reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Mathias' head jerked round in a very stiff motion which betrayed his lack of sleep.

"You do honor him," Maurus said gravely. The sight of mounds of rock hiding a hundred dead and the sound of orcs falling screaming to their deaths appeared in his mind and his words slowly intensified as he continued: "You seek to avenge his death and when we succeed, we will not only have avenged him and all the others that died during those weeks, but we will have done the Horde a great service."

" _If_  we find the dreadlord," Mathias said tonelessly, his gaze going back to the stars above. "If we have not already lost the trail for good. We don't even have a name."

Maurus finally understood. With no certainty that they were even on the right track and unable to do anything but wait and hope, restlessness and doubt, the same Maurus felt some of the days, had let grief come to the surface. He squeezed Mathias' shoulder, then shook it just slightly when he realized Mathias couldn't feel it through the steel shoulder plate. Mathias looked at him again, eyes tired.

"Arianna will get the scent," he said firmly. "And I swear, on my honor, that I will see this through, or die trying."

Mathias looked at him, the slight widening of his eyes telling Maurus that he realized how serious that vow was.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Maurus nodded grimly at him. "The demon has a lot to answer for. We'll make certain he does."

Mathias nodded and looked back up into the black sky. Maurus patted him on the shoulder before lowering his arm and looking up too. They sat there in silence for a long while, until Maurus again drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The sun rising over Stranglethorn Vale was the most beautiful sight Maurus had seen since they'd left the Ge'Am Islands. A thin white band of sand separated the blue waves from the blooming green of the jungle, which stretched to the north and west as far as the eye could see and seemed to go on endlessly towards the east. The only thing on the shore that wasn't green or white was directly ahead of them. Grom'Gol was a fortress of sharp, black wood and ruddy red roofs. A single, massive zeppelin tower stood out from the other, lower buildings, which was partly obscured by the scores of colorful sails in the harbor. Hundreds of people scuttled over the piers and ships, loading and unloading crates and sacks and bags.

The day was hot, like the previous days, but it was only as they edged into the harbor, when the air became filled with cloying sweet smells and the heavy, wet scent of rotting wood and plants, that Maurus really noticed it. At sea, the fresh spray of water and the breeze took the edge off, but between the other ships in the harbor, the humidity closed around him and dampened his fur, making it hang limp and heavy from him. He was not looking forward to donning his mail and leathers.

"Finally," Mathias murmured beside him and he couldn't agree more. Over at months at sea was not his idea of a good time, despite the voyage having been as smooth as one could hope for, according to Arianna. It seemed to take an hour before they laid down the gangplank and finally got off the ship and it was an effort of will to not simply push his way through the crowd on the pier. When he finally stepped onto the continent, feeling earth instead of wood beneath his hooves, a nausea he had hardly noticed vanished and it was only now that it was gone that he noticed how off-balance he'd felt the whole trip. He felt refreshed despite the humid air and didn't even care about the people pushing past him.

"Cow, keep up!"

Maurus blinked and looked at Arianna. She was standing a little further ahead and Maurus realized that he'd stopped and that the crowd was moving around him, some of the people giving him irritated stares or rolling their eyes at him. Mathias had already vanished in the crowd, going ahead with his errands without a word. He shook himself and waved for her to just go ahead. She did so and Maurus began looking around for butchers and bakers.

Grom'Gol was almost as busy as Ratchet, but that and the roar and stink of the crowd were about the extent of the similarities. The roads were straight paths of dark, damp earth, churned up by the hundreds of feet and hooves that moved along it and the squat buildings around were sturdily built, completely unlike the thin, teetering buildings in Ratchet. Outcriers stood at every crossroad, shouting for the men and women of the Horde to report to the northern path out of Grom'gol, to begin the journey to the Blasted Lands.

It didn't take him long to find supplies. Getting a somewhat reasonable price for the bags of bread, cheese and smoked raptor meat however, did. Getting some fresh fruit was even harder, but he managed. After the weeks at sea he really needed something that didn't require soaking it for a while before it could be chewed. By the time he was finished with his purchases, he was feeling noticeably poorer, despite the fact that his purses still were pretty heavy, and the relief of being on land again faded somewhat, dampened by the wet heat and the unceasing assault of Stranglethorn's mosquito population.

Two hours before noon, he met up with Arianna and Mathias. They were waiting in the shadow of the zeppelin tower, seated on an empty crate someone had left behind and their bags and some bundles of cloth Maurus assumed to be tents had been placed against the wall of the tower. Between them lay three round, yellow-orange fruits and what looked like peels from more of the fruit was scattered on the ground around them. Mathias was slicing up a fourth fruit with his knife, while Arianna was peeling her own with slow, methodical movements, while she studied Mathias' shield, which lay in her lap.

"Now we won't starve," Maurus said by way of greeting as he reached them and dropped the bags of food on the ground. "But you're carrying some of it yourself."

Mathias lifted his head and grinned at him and Maurus was pleased to see that the intensity was back in his gaze. "I take it you have good news?"

"She found him again," Mathias said.

Maurus snorted. "Good to hear that our faith was well placed," he said mildly. Something flashed across Mathias' face, but it was gone a moment later. He leapt off the crate and picked up one of the bags.

"Yes, you were right, now I've said it," he said impatiently. "Let's get going before we lose him again."

Maurus looked down at the bags he'd just put down and made a show of sighing. "If you insist."

"I do," Mathias said, snatching up his shield before walking up the north road with quick steps. There was something different in his stance, more like a predator curled up and ready to pounce than like someone carrying a heavy weight.  _'To think I can tell the difference in how he slouches,'_ Maurus thought wryly before he looked at Arianna. She sent a slight glare after Mathias before she picked up her bag and packed the strange fruits.

"If only we could take a zeppelin," she said, sending a short, wistful glance upwards. Maurus followed her gaze and felt a little shiver go through him. He was somewhat glad that the zeppelins were all reserved for supply transport though that thought made a slight sting of shame go through him. He should be as impatient as Mathias, not concerned with such petty unease.

"At least we're sure we don't get incinerated before we get to the Portal," Maurus said as Arianna shrugged on her bag.

"Assuming you don't get on the bad side of any mages," she answered, nodding at a passing pair of trolls in brightly colored robes as she picked up her staff and the peeled fruit. "Or me."

"I doubt you'll want to burn me again," he answered as they walked out of the shade and into the street. Traffic was lighter than in Ratchet, but that just meant that there was about a foot or two between them and the orcs, elves and trolls around them.

She considered him for a moment as they walked. "There  _were_  some times on the " _Boar"_ ," she said with a slight smirk. "But it seemed irresponsible in such flammable surroundings."

Maurus thought back and mentally winced as he recalled the worst of the days, where he, in hindsight, had been insufferable from a mix of seasickness, homesickness, worry and boredom. He thought a little more and shrugged. "You had your moods too," he said pleasantly. He put exaggerated seriousness into his words when he added: "But I am thankful for your amazing restraint."

"You pushed me out of my hammock, more than once," she said, sidestepping a brown-furred, plate-armored tauren hurrying in the other direction.

"Those weren't the only times you were about to light someone on fire," he answered calmly. He looked straight ahead, towards the gate in the distance, when he continued, voice quieter and a great deal more serious: "You seemed to be suffering."

There were a few moments of silence and Maurus wondered if he'd touched a nerve. He kept his gaze pointed towards the gate, absently noting the large number of tauren rising above the crowd. Then Arianna's hand appeared in front of his face, holding the peeled fruit.

"Orange?" she asked. Thrown by the question Maurus asked dumbly: "Yes it is?"

"Just try the fruit, cow," she said. He accepted it with a raised eyebrow and took a bite. Sour and sweet juice filled his mouth and in a few more bites he'd eaten it all.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he said: "Huh, that's something else. Much better than the limes."

Arianna wrinkled her nose. "Of all the fruits on Azeroth," she sighed, before shrugging. "Then again, we still have our teeth."

Maurus nodded, opened his mouth, then stopped and frowned as he realized something. "Where's Ash?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the outcrier they passed. He'd gotten used to Arianna without her demonic pet, but now that he thought about it, he'd expected her to summon the demon as soon as possible.

"I didn't summon him," she answered simply. "I'm considering consulting some of my other minions about our quarry."

Maurus waved a hand for her to continue as the crowd thinned ahead of them.

"Don't tell Mathias, but the horn still might go cold. I've never worked with tracking a dreadlord before and if that happens, a name, or any lead really, would be worth a lot."

Maurus frowned. He'd become accustomed to Ash, he was even comfortable with the hound at times, and that worried him now that he thought about it. But having one of the other demons with them, one of the more intelligent ones that could talk, truly concerned him. Then again, he couldn't deny the logic in seeking out more information and Arianna would do what she found necessary, regardless of what he might say.

"Why aren't any of them around then?" Maurus asked as they walked through the gate. The area around Grom'Gol had been cleared of trees, leaving maybe four hundred feet of flat dirt between the walls and the nearest looming trees. The space was filled with people and beasts though, and it was almost as noisy as it was inside the walls.

"I don't have the components," Arianna said. When he glanced toward her, she added flatly: "Not even a shard."

Maurus recalled the ominous crystals she had used to summon Ash and decided he didn't care for further explanations at that moment. Instead he straightened and looked around.

"Now, we should probably find our forsaken friend."

It took them only a short time to find him, impatient and irritated by the news that no-one was leaving till early afternoon. He almost looked like he was about to set off by himself, but Maurus managed to convince him that going along with the group was more likely to go well.

Secretly, Maurus was glad to have a few hours of rest on solid ground before they headed into the jungle and he used the time to get some less urgent supplies before leaving his things with his companions and heading out into the water a little ways from Grom'Gol. He wasn't alone in taking the opportunity for a quick dip. A lot of those who had made the trip across the sea seemed to have had the same idea and the number of other people in the water calmed any worry he might have had about being ambushed by murlock or sharks, making it the most relaxing bath he'd had since the one he'd had just before coming to Ratchet.

Finally, with the sun an hour past its zenith, the two hundred strong Horde regiment and a motley collection of animals and a lot of kodos pulling wagons set off into the dense jungle.


	3. Haunted Forest

Chasing Through Hell

Haunted Forest

The night under the canopy was dark except for the fires slowly appearing in the camp, yet it was as lively as the day had been. There was a hustle and bustle in the camp and the drone of conversation and snorts of beasts moved through the air along with the ever-present hum of mosquitoes. Maurus glanced up from the bottle in his hand when he noticed someone moving towards him and Mathias, who was crouched a few yards away from him.

"Are you really making a fire? In this heat?"

Arianna sounded and looked like she questioned either their sanity or her own eyes. Even after the sun had set, the air beneath the canopy of Stranglethorn remained heavy and muggy and the sheen of sweat on her face and the sodden state of Maurus' own fur were twin testaments that heat was the last thing they needed. Then again, the fire wasn't for warmth.

"Raptor's better cooked," Maurus answered, gesturing to his right, where four thin lengths of metal had been set into the ground, with chunks of dark meat hanging from them. A few yards away, Mathias rose from his crouch, revealing a small flame spreading over the kindling. Already, several fires were burning brightly in the camp around them, but the sputter and crackle of this particular flame made Maurus' mouth water in anticipation as Mathias placed a spit across the budding fire before sitting down on his right side.

"That I can't deny," Arianna said as Maurus opened his liquor bottle and poured a splash of clear liquid into his palm. When he smeared it over the long, shallow cuts across his torso, he hissed and Arianna sighed. He looked at her just in time to catch her rolling her eyes.

"Yes, I know, I should have worn the mail," Maurus said, the irritation in his voice directed more at himself than her. He'd underestimated the ferocity of the huge raptors when they came out of the jungle and he clenched his teeth briefly in annoyance at coming off like a greenhorn. Mathias' frank nod didn't make it less embarrassing.

"Though I agree, that wasn't what I meant," Arianna said. As she sat down beside him, she almost casually pulled a health stone from her bag and dropped it in his lap. "Here."

Maurus looked at the sickly green rock for a heartbeat before he snatched it up, for some reason worried about having it that close to his groin. "It's just a few scratches," he said, though he didn't hand back the stone.

"Are we going to have this conversation every time?" she asked. "You have the help of a warlock, use it."

Maurus considered the stone for a long moment, watching the dark glow twist weirdly in the stopper he held between two fingers and the bottle of liquor in his other hand. Then he closed his fingers around the rock, which crumbled to dust between his fingers and winced as he felt the magic sear its way through is arm and fuse the rents in his chest shut. He was reminded him of how he'd been able to feel Arianna's magic burn through her when they'd fought the succubi on that mountainside. Though he'd gotten a lot more used to how the magic felt, disturbingly used to it actually, he found it incredible that anyone could become so accustomed to it that they could concentrate through it and the spin of nausea.

"Speaking of help, hand me your shield," Arianna said, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow, stoppering his bottle of disinfectant before putting it away. She waved a hand at him impatiently and he put a hand on his shield in a half-protective gesture.

"Why?" he asked.

Arianna pulled a small, familiar black book from her bag, along with a small, red pouch and leaned forward to drag Mathias' shield closer.

"Yes, you're welcome, thank you for asking to borrow my shield, again," Mathias said blandly, turning the meat.

"Thank you," Arianna said blithely, producing another item from her bag. It was a thin rod, gleaming in the half-light, topped with a smooth sphere and tapering off to a point at the other end. She turned her gaze back to Maurus as she put the rod on the ground and answered: "To make it better. Shield please."

Maurus hesitated another moment before he handed her the shield. She visibly strained to lift it and when she laid it over her lap, it completely covered her crossed legs.

She opened the red bag and poured a small pile of fine, silver-blue dust into her palm and carefully put the bag aside. She looked intently at the glimmering dust for a short moment before spreading the dust out over the shield with a gently puff of breath. Casting a glance at Mathias' shield again, she picked up the enchanting rod before murmuring a low, continuous stream of words Maurus couldn't understand. The tip of the rod began to glow, shining brighter and brighter until it blazed with a light that was almost painful to look at, revealing the metal to be warm gold. Very carefully, she put the tip against the shield's surface and slowly began tracing sigils into the metal.

"Never seen an enchanting before?" Mathias guessed. Maurus shook his head. He'd seen a lot of magic in his life, but he'd never seen anyone imbuing items with magic, never even had the chance to experience the shamans of his tribe enchant anything. He'd been declared talentless long before that and the shamans were secretive about that art. He pushed the thought away without effort, only feeling the barest, fleeting twitch of bitterness and watched curiously as Arianna worked. The light lingered for a moment in the wake of the rod, like frozen flame, before seeming to sink into the metal.

Maurus almost jumped when Mathias tapped him on his shoulder. He accepted the piece of meat with a nod and dug in eagerly, still watching the enchanting. Only a short time later, Arianna put down the golden rod and reached for some food of her own.

"Was that it?" Maurus asked, stabbing his knife into another bit of meat. Beside him, Mathias was gnawing on the leg of a raptor, a raw one. Arianna shook her head and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"It will take some sessions," she said. Maurus reached over and took back his shield. It was almost impossible to see any change, but if he tilted it right, the light caught in very shallow grooves.

"This is- What do I owe you?" Maurus asked, his eyes lifting from the shield. "That stuff is expensive, isn't it?"

Mathias snorted and eyed his own shield. "Like diamonds and peace."

Arianna waved a hand and smirked. "I consider it an investment. If you can handle some fire too, you'll be more use standing between me and demons."

"True. But I still insist on paying for the dust," Maurus said firmly.

"You just keep carrying the gold till I need it then," Arianna said. "I don't need the extra weight."

Maurus made low, amiable sound of agreement and for a little while they ate in silence.

"You know, Stranglethorn doesn't live up to its reputation," Maurus mused around his last mouthful of food, wiping his fingers on the grass beneath him. Arianna raised an eyebrow in question and Mathias made an inquiring grunt before sucking out the marrow of the raptor bone with a loud slurp.

"I'll admit the wildlife is nasty and I've never had such use for my tail before," he said, flicking his tail to dislodge a mosquito or two and swat another on his trousers. He wasn't sure they could sting through them, but he wouldn't be surprised if they could. "But ' _Green Hell'_ seems like an exaggeration."

"Guess driving the trolls out of Zul'Gurub did a lot to that effect," Mathias said. Maurus couldn't help but glance to the east. They weren't that far from the ruined city, but they hadn't seen a single hostile troll, so Mathias was most likely right.

"It's hell on my nose though," Arianna said, scrunching up her face. "The jungle by itself is tolerable, but all of you don't exactly freshen the air."

Maurus and Mathias snorted in unison and Maurus reached out, pulled Arianna toward him and made a show of loudly sniffing her hair. He found himself wrinkling his nose more than he expected as he inhaled the sour stench of old sweat.

"You're not any better than us," he chuckled, letting go of her and as she leaned back from the almost overbalanced position Maurus had pulled her into, she gave him a startled half-glare. He just let out another chuckle and leaned back on his hands, giving her a look that challenged her to contradict him. For a moment she held his gaze, before she turned her head to look out into the jungle.

"I do think you might find it more of a hell if you left the road," she mused. Maurus followed her gaze to the solid wall of dark green on the edge of the area that had been cleared around the road. The half-distinct trees almost clung to each other, and thick vines hung like ropy webs where there was space between them.

"You may have a point," he admitted. He glanced at the vines that were creeping along the ground, as if trying to reclaim the road. "I think I'll be thankful that this road sees so much traffic."

"And here I thought you didn't like the masses encroaching on nature," Arianna said lightly, smiling slightly.

"I doubt the jungle needs my help," he said amiably. He lips twitched in annoyance and he flicked his tail again when something settled on his back and added: "To be honest, I don't want to be here any longer than strictly necessary."

* * *

Maurus' wish was granted. They made great time and Stranglethorn didn't prove any more dangerous on the rest of their way. The only real danger they were ever in came from the suicidally aggressive wildlife and those attacks turned out to be a convenient source of food when they got used to it.

The worst Maurus could say about the trip was that it was uncomfortable. Worse than the animals, in Maurus' opinion, were the heat and the insects, the latter in particular. Despite using his new tent, the mosquitoes got to him and the itching stings and the incessant buzzing, promising more stings, made sleep harder to find. That the mosquitoes seemed to leave his two companions alone only made it more irritating, though the heat seemed to bother them just as much as it did him.

At least, that was the case until Arianna did as she'd planned and summoned one of her other minions. The void walker didn't have any of the information she sought, but it did seem to drain the heat from the air, so Arianna kept it around, despite the effect its presence had on many of their traveling companions. Maurus had begun striking up conversation with several of the orcs and tauren, but when Arianna nonchalantly appeared with the dark, apparition-like being, Maurus' new acquaintances abruptly turned cold and curt with him. He couldn't truly blame them. He wasn't comfortable with the demon either, even if it was silent, but the rejection still rankled.

Others, however, weren't deterred by the demon. A few blood elves and the occasional orc or forsaken came down to their end of the caravan during the days and their surprisingly good company, and that of Arianna and Mathias, was one of the things that made the trip seem quicker than it was. It didn't seem like they'd traveled more than a week through the dense greenery before the heavy heat began to lessen and the jungle started changing. Slowly the plants on either side of them became less like a solid wall and the places where nature seemed to try to reclaim the road became fewer and fewer. As the land began to gently climb, the vine-choked trees around them slowly gave way to more open land, though they only left the trees behind when they climbed up into the mountains.

Finally coming out from under the canopy and, more importantly to Maurus, leaving the insects behind, made him almost giddy. It was the first place in the Eastern Kingdoms that had felt so much like home and despite the slight twist in his gut, the familiar feel of rock and dirt under his hooves put him at ease. He wasn't the only one whose mood improved during their trip through the mountains. Most of the caravan, Arianna and Mathias included, seemed as relieved as he was to be out under the open sky and feeling the wind against their faces again.

They passed over the mountains in good time and good cheer. Foreboding Duskwood, spreading out before them, didn't trouble them much, nor did it elicit anything but chuckles when the leaders of the caravan declared, at the tops of their voices, that anyone taking from farms or fields on the trip would be nailed to a tree for the Alliance to find, even though they knew the threats were completely serious.

When they entered the Duskwood however, the bleak pall covering the forest became harder to ignore. It seemed darker than it should be beneath the skeletal trees, considering how bare the trees were. The massive, twisted trees rose from the ground around the road, reaching with grasping fingers for a clear sky that seemed dull and lifeless. A musty scent of rotting leaves and crops, tinged with something rancid, hung in the air and the wind whispered through the forest like dying sighs.

Though they tried to hold on to an air of stubborn boisterousness, the bustling conversation dwindled as the days passed, though it never quite died. Even Arianna was affected and her partly serious complaints and the half-lectures that Maurus kept provoking her into gave way to wary silence.

Maurus tried to keep their spirits up, partly by insisting, both to himself and to the others, that it wasn't that different from Desolace and partly by talking with Mathias, who seemed unaffected by their surroundings. Mathias seemed thrilled with how quick their progress was and seemed utterly unconcerned with how ominous the complete lack of life in the forest was to the rest of them.

"Now that reminds me even more of home," Mathias said and pointed ahead with his sword, towards the abandoned town the road was leading too. On either side of the road were long-abandoned fields which the forest had not yet reclaimed. Enclosed by rotting fences, the rows of thin, spectral stalks swayed in the wind, rotting alongside low bushes and other weeds which filled the gaps between the stalks, turning the fields into dense shrubbery reaching halfway up Mathias' chest. Maurus noted sadly that there were only half-again as many weeds on these fields as there were on the other small fields they'd seen, and those had clearly still been in use. He was no farmer, but it seemed farming in Duskwood was a thankless profession.

The wreck of a town was the first settlement in Duskwood they were going to pass through. They'd taken the southern roads, clinging to the mountains, both for speed and in order to avoid going through the more populated areas and risking any incidents. Even if the Alliance was allowing the Horde passage through the territory, there was no reason to push their luck.

Maurus gave a vaguely inquiring grunt in response to Mathias comment and shifted his grip on his axe again, glancing out over the decaying fields as another breeze made sent waves rippling across them towards the town. Even here, a stone's throw from the shade of any tree, Duskwood lived up to its name.

Everyone was on guard despite the scouts they'd sent ahead claiming the place was abandoned. It was common knowledge that it was rare for something to stay abandoned for long and the only question in Maurus' mind was if anything in the town would be willing to attack them. If there was anyone hostile in there, they were biding their time, waiting for the tail end of the caravan, where Maurus, Arianna and Mathias were, to enter the town limits.

"This looks a lot like Brill, oddly enough," Mathias said. Maurus looked at the buildings. They'd obviously been built to last, with thick timber and solid brick, but the wood was rotting, lined with splotches of mold, the bricks were crumbling and the what color there had been had long since faded or peeled from the houses. The houses had had a surprising amount of glass windows, but none of them were intact. Only twisted window panes remained, studded with shards of glass, like dark mouths filled with small, crystal teeth and their breath was the putrid scent of rot and fetid mildew.

"If that is the state you keep your cities in, I'm amazed anyone gets out of your lands without illnesses," he said. He tried to keep his tone light, but he didn't think he quite managed to hold back a bit of disgust. He gave Mathias a half-grin to take the edge off and added: "Then again, I will consider myself lucky that you seem to be one of the cleaner forsaken then."

Mathias snorted as they walked into the shadow of one of the ruined farmhouses. "Mold isn't as bad as you people claim," he said. "And we know how to keep things apart. Can't get the plague vats and the wine barrels mixed up now, can we? I'd be murder on trade."

Maurus didn't react to Mathias' comment. The town seemed as dead as it had looked from the outside and the noise of the caravan struck Maurus as almost improper, like they were disrespecting the dead. Something slithered along his back, a warning or just a chill of fear. He glanced around, past the people around him, many of whom looked as on edge as he was, and found his gaze drawn to windows and doorways, dark, gaping holes in the buildings.

"Can you imagine the complaints?" Mathias chuckled, then lowered his voice into an aggravated growl: "I wanted that well spoiled, not spiked!"

The spark of amusement Maurus had felt at Mathias' previous comments evaporated and he frowned darkly, his stomach roiling with a mix of regret and anger. At his silence, Mathias glanced at him, then at Arianna and raised an eyebrow.

"Where'd your sense of humor go?"

Arianna was the first to speak, voice flat: "Nowhere. You're just being tasteless."

Mathias snorted and Arianna's voice got a little harder when she continued: "You'd not joke if you'd seen-"

Mathias' grin faded and his voice was as dark as the expression his features twisted into when he interrupted: "I have."

Maurus felt slight nausea and his mouth went dry as his thoughts turned to memories he'd rather forget. He remembered the guilty helplessness, the oozing stench, the frail bodies and the feeble, pained moans. It was almost as if he could still hear them.

He was shocked from his thoughts when a mournful, sonorous ringing filled the air. His eyes were drawn to the bell tower, which loomed over the town like a neglected and crumbling tombstone. He stared for a moment, transfixed by the ominous sound, then shook his head and, guided by some instinct, turned around. Several of the blood elves around him did the same, as did Mathias and Arianna and it was not a moment too soon.

"Scourge!" a blood elf paladin shouted, equal parts alarm and hate in her voice.

"Tighten formation!" Maurus bellowed, forgetting in the heat of the moment that he wasn't in charge of anything. The group around him obeyed immediately, the casters gathering within the ring formed by the fighters, a handful of warriors, shamans and a paladin. Payta, one of the tauren actually in charge, nodded curtly at him and lifted her immense shield.

From the rotten fields and the houses around them the living dead dashed towards them. Maurus hadn't seen any hostile undead since the few he'd encountered during the Third War and the sudden reminder of how monstrous they were sent a chill through his bones. The withered, rotten ghouls were bent over so low that they almost ran on all fours, spines twisted grotesquely, so they'd been too low to see when they ran through the fields. Some were naked, revealing their rotting bodies entirely, but many still wore torn clothes, tattered cloaks or dingy armor and though most were unarmed, some carried rusting blade and crude clubs. Their hands and feet were bony claws, their jaws hung open, too-wide to look natural, revealing yellow teeth and black nubs, and their eyes contained nothing but a savage hunger.

Maurus roared in challenge, trying to drown out ghouls' horrible, sickly moans and the heavy tolling of the church bell. He swept his axe out in a wide arc, slicing through the first three ghouls that reached him, and their bisected bodes slammed against his body. Before he could reverse the swing, two more ghouls leapt at his right shoulder, their claws catching hold around his pauldron and digging into his mail. They snapped their jaws at his face, and Maurus had to shake himself furiously to stop them from simply climbing close enough to reach his neck. He swung his axe again, cleaving through more of his enemies, forced to take a step back from the swarming ghouls. He almost fell over when the ghouls on him lost their grip, one falling to the ground in convulsions, the other ripped off by massive, blue-black hand.

"Burn!" Wiven hissed viciously and a group of ghouls were tossed back by an explosion of fire which made Maurus' exposed fur curl in the heat. The cold hate in the blood elf mage's voice was at odds with the levity he'd displayed during the trip through the jungle.

"Scouts have worse eyesight than our bats," Mathias said quickly. He was on Maurus' left, his sword darting out in silver arcs, slicing off hands and crippling legs and splattering thick black blood onto the ground. On Maurus' other side, Arianna's void walker stood like a wall, slamming fists almost as big as Maurus' own into the ghouls. Several ghouls faltered and crumbled, decayed flesh sloughing off from rapid corruption and turning black from the heat of demonic fire as Arianna chanted frantically behind him.

"I'd have said they should have smelled them," Maurus replied, his words coming in rough breaths as he pushed back two ghouls that were clawing at him over the handle of his axe, "but I can't say I thought about the smell either."

A smoky ball of purple-black energy passed him and knocked down a ghoul that had been poised to leap at him. He silently berated himself for the moment of inattention and shut up, just as a rapid drumbeat filled the air. A distinct rhythm, six beats for every moment, penetrated the shouts of the Horde and the groans of the undead, sounding out the order to push forward.

They moved further into the town under the clashing notes of drum and bell and the pressure of the ghouls' attack eased up slightly, despite the ghouls clambering over the buildings and racing down the streets. The flash of magic lit up the dark sides of the houses and flame, frost and lightning tore at the ghouls with as much ferocity as the steel in the Horde warriors' hands. The ghouls attacked with reckless abandon, to little effect, yet with each enemy Maurus felled, a gnawing suspicion grew in his gut.

Something sharp jabbed into his leg and he kicked out in response, only looking down in time to see a small head with tufts of black hair shatter as his hoof connected. Bile rose in his throat as he saw the tiny ghoul drop the rusty knife and crumble to the ground. He bellowed like a wounded kodo and lashed out even wilder against the next ghoul, blinking away a stinging in his eyes.

It was then the ringing of the bell stopped. Despite the battle raging on with the same fury, the sudden absence of the ringing made it seem oddly quiet and Maurus felt his fur stand on end from head to hoof. Despite the battle din, he noticed a raspy voice ring out a quick string of words filled with power, words that Maurus vaguely recognized and he saw a cloaked ghoul straighten slightly, one of several rising above the rest, and thrusting a rotted hand forward.

Out the corner of his eye, Maurus saw the ghouls rush past him, through the translucent, powerless shape of Arianna's banished void walker. The ghouls leapt on Wiven like a pack of rapid dogs and he vanished beneath them with a scream. In a desperate move, Maurus stooped down and swung his axe as low to the ground as he dared. The ghouls were knocked back, revealing a bloodied, wide-eyed, but thankfully still breathing Wiven.

Maurus didn't pause to help him up, turning back toward the attackers, just in time to try to dodge the sword stabbing at him. As the steel clanged against his mail, shouts of alarm and panicked cries rose from the rest of the regiment.

The ghoul darted back to avoid Maurus' return blow. It looked as inhuman as all the other ghouls, but the armor was intact beneath the grime and spots of rust and a glint of intelligence shone in his rotting eyeballs.

"Stick together," Payta bellowed, pushing back several of the undead with powerful shove of her tower shield, lashing out with her hammer at another armed undead, which, unlike the rest, dodged.

As Maurus obeyed, forming a ring with the other warriors around casters, he glanced further into the town and felt his stomach sink. The undead that had wounded him was only one of many who had hidden among the ghouls and the surprise attack had been terribly effective. Blood elves, tauren and orcs littered the ground, those not yet dead getting trod underfoot by the feet of the ghouls. The long, rectangular formation of the regiment had been broken and was now separated into a dozen groups of wildly varying size. They were hard pressed, forced on the defensive as the mindless ghouls threw themselves at the blades of the Horde while the intelligent ones darted forward to take advantage of the openings that appeared.

It didn't look completely hopeless though. He took heart in the sight of the kodos raging through the undead, their massive size and weight simply overpowering the tide of dead flesh. The Horde casters were doing their part, taking down the intelligent undead whenever possible and there didn't seem to be coming more ghouls to the battle, so with luck and strength, they might just be able to grind down the undead.

He pushed back a trio of ghouls clawing at him and felt another rush of heat hit him, almost painful in its intensity. He glanced to Payta just in time to see the last remnants of the fireball die against her shield, but his gaze was drawn to the ghouls maybe fifty yards from him. They were as rotted and inhuman as the rest and as varied in clothing, some wearing heavy cloaks while others were almost naked, but what marked them apart from all the other ghouls where the sickly, smoky green light that blazed to life in their eye sockets and around their hands.

"Get the necromancers," Mathias snarled urgently. Maurus almost protested, they were barely holding on as it was, but he shut the thought away and kept pace as they struggled towards forward, the warriors circling around the casters as they moved. Arianna's urgent voice rang out, in unison with the other casters, and streams of flame and shards of ice streaked towards several of the necromancers, only for most to be intercepted by ghouls that leapt into their path. Only the undead warlock who had banished Arianna's void walker had any reaction, his rotten face twisting in terror. He took a step back, before he seemed to gather himself, his mouth stretching into a parody of a smile, staring straight at Arianna.

"Fear is for the living, elf," he hissed, as some of his fellows launched fire and shadow at the group of Horde. But most of the undead intoned a chant Maurus didn't recognize, though the anxiety he noticed in those around him also affected him.

Columns of green smoke appeared around them and for just a heartbeat, Maurus couldn't fathom what happened. Then he recognized an attacking ghoul as one he'd just felled and saw, on his right, an orc rise to his feet, his intestines still hanging from his belly, turning dead eyes on Maurus.

His blood pounded in his head and his grip on his weapon tightened to the point where it should have been painful, yet he couldn't feel it. His gaze fixed on the necromancers.

"I'll rip you apart for this abomination!" he roared, his blood coursing through his veins like boiling lead. He pushed forward, taking the lead in the formation. He didn't pay any attention to the claws scraping against him, hardly noticed the swords, though he did register that Mathias and Payta were at his sides. He saw more ghouls crumble under Arianna's magic assault, heard the dragon-like roar of one of Wiven's spells and somehow felt the presence of the void walker behind him.

The undead warlock closest to them chanted something and Maurus felt something cold flow over him, a whisper of fear that sought to take hold of him, but it could not penetrate his rage. The warlock started backing away instead as Maurus noticed a rumble in the ground.

Bone cracked and limbs snapped as a kodo barreled through the undead on Maurus' right, the tauren riding it shouting in gleeful defiance, swinging a hammer at the ghouls clinging to his mount. Maurus didn't know how it had gotten the space to build up that speed, but he also didn't care. In the wake of the rampaging kodo came another group of Horde, using the opening to hack down the ghouls that had nearly been knocked back by the charge.

"Keep up," Maurus roared and followed the kodo. The undead clawed at them from the sides, trying to bog them down again, but with the room given to them by the kodo, the support of the other Horde warriors and the momentum they were able to build, it was easier to keep the ghouls at bay and the intelligent undead didn't have as much of an advantage.

Maurus stomped towards the undead warlock. He'd managed to throw himself aside from the charging kodo and was scrambling to his feet, but Maurus didn't let him get up. The heavy axe split open his chest and the flickering green light vanished from the warlock's eyes.

Maurus' gaze settled on the necromancers as he continued moving. Several of those not crushed underfoot were knocked off balance by the rampaging kodo and were quickly dispatched by powerful strokes Maurus' axe as he followed the kodo.

He spied another warlock, edging away along one of the buildings and he roared in challenge, leaping at him. A flash of cold, green energy numbed him from shoulder to elbow, but his axe was already in motion and the warlock's head went flying from her shoulders.

He hacked and kicked, his rage fueled by the sight of too small ghouls and the screams of dying Horde. It was very sudden when he realized the tide had turned. The Horde had recovered from the surprise and with the ghouls dying faster than they could be reanimated and the steady elimination of the intelligent undead, the battle was almost won. The mass of undead was thinning rapidly, and some of the more intelligent undead were retreating. Maurus ground his teeth at the thought of them escaping but the sight of a small group of wolf- and raptor riders on the other side of the undead dispelled that worry. The riders with the regiment must have hurried out to harry the undead when the attack first began.

Lifting his axe from another dead ghoul, he was surprised to see neither enemies nor allies close by. Many of the Horde soldiers had passed him, now fighting ghouls out in the fields. He spotted his own group of casters and fighters almost immediately, a little ways off, fighting a small group of ghouls of which a few were armed. Feeling exposed and guilty for leaving the group, and saddened to see that they had lost the paladin and the troll mage, he hurried to rejoin them, even though it looked like they had things well in hand.

He'd hardly finished the thought before he was proven wrong. Without Maurus and the paladin he never got the name of the fighters around the casters were spread more thinly and two sword-wielding undead pushed into the circle, raising their blades to strike Arianna and Wiven, who had their backs to the attackers and Maurus.

"Watch out," Maurus yelled, heart in his throat. He was already moving as fast as he could and he knew he'd be too late.

Mathias wasn't though. He swept in from the side, swinging his sword with blinding speed, slashing through the spine of one ghoul and skewering the other through the heart. Arianna whirled as Mathias pulled out his sword and turned fully to her and her eyes went wide and wild, her hand right hand coming alight with dark energy, a quick incantation spilling from her lips.

Maurus winced when Mathias slammed his shield into Arianna's nose. The magic coalescing in her palm instantly snuffed out as she staggered backwards and Maurus clenched his teeth, feeling a hot flush of anger as he saw the blood spray from her nose.

By the time he reached them, Mathias had circled around Arianna and helped Payta and Wiven dispatch the last ghouls. Mathias looked at him, gave him the rictus grin he often wore and said:

"Glad you joined again. Though you seemed to have your own party."

"What was that?" Maurus demanded angrily.

"I wasn't keen on feeling that spell," he said unconcernedly, bending down to wipe his sword on the trousers of a dead ghoul. He glanced over his shoulder and tilted his head in a gesture of slight puzzlement. "To be honest, I expected more control from her."

"And you had full control over that shield?" he asked, the words sharp though.

Mathias shrugged, though his grin faded a little. "Lashing out when someone aims magic at you is instinct. You should know that."

Maurus was about to retort, but bit it down and gave Mathias a stiff nod of acknowledgement before walking over to Arianna. She'd walked the short distance away and stood in the shadow of one of the houses, the void walker looming beside her, her staff leaning against the wall. She looked more worn than he'd expected, her clothing more torn than he'd noticed and cuts and scrapes could be seen where her skin was exposed. The hand she was holding over her nose was stained with blood and so was her chin. There was scowl on her face, but she wasn't directing it at Mathias. Instead, her eyes were on the dim sky above.

The blood and the scrapes reminded Maurus of his own condition. Now that the battle rage was fading and his pulse was slowing, he could feel his body ache with the beginnings of massive bruising. He licked his lip and tasted the blood from where a ghoul had sunk its claws into his cheek.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

She turned her scowl on him. Her voice sounded odd, like she had a cold, when she answered and her tone was harsh:

"Except for being annoyed that the worst injury I got in this fight was from one of my allies, I'm just fine."

"Broken?" Maurus asked, trying to keep his voice calm despite the spark of angry heat that welled up in him as he glanced at Mathias again. Arianna simply jerked her hand away from her face, revealing a nose that had been squashed to the side and Maurus grimaced.

He quickly glanced around for healers, but the sight of the battlefield, now silent but for the moans of the wounded and the shouts of the other living Horde made him give up that search with a dry swallow. Any healers here had better things to do.

"You have a stone of your own?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I used it already." She fingered a cut in her robe, about the length of Maurus' thumb. "About when you went after the second necromancer."

Maurus' gut twisted and he swallowed. "I apologize," he said glumly, lowering his axe to the ground before he fished the health stone out from the pocket he'd hidden it in. He held it out to her.

"Use it," she said sourly. "You're going to be one big bruise tomorrow from how you took those blows."

"Aren't you the one always saying I should use what I have?" Maurus asked flatly. He couldn't deny her words but he wasn't going to voice that agreement right then. He pushed the stone at her and added: "I just get bruises, they'll fade. That nose will be crooked for the rest of your life if we don't fix it. Take it."

That made her accept the stone and he grasped her chin with one hand, his fingers huge against her small, delicate face. He thought he felt the slightest tremble in her frame and for a moment he wondered if he should get someone else to do it. He pushed the doubt aside. If he could fix noses on a goblin and a troll adolescent, he could fix Arianna's.

"Deep breath," he said to Arianna, then jerked her nose back into place. He could feel her jaw clench between his fingers and the air escaped her in hiss. He let go of her nose almost immediately but not before he felt the heat of the health stone working its magic on her. It seemed she'd crushed the stone the moment he wrenched her nose back into place. He let go of her face and half-turned, ignoring the void walker, which had moved slightly closer and seemed on the verge of violence.

Looking out over the road, Maurus' eyes were drawn to the dead Horde, most of which were so brutalized that it must have been from getting cut down more than once. The few, very small bodies that were scattered here and there didn't escape his notice either and he swallowed thickly before dragging his gaze away, letting it settle on Arianna again. She had gone back to looking at the sky, though her eyes strayed to the bodies and to Mathias seemingly against her will. She looked slightly ill, paler than usual.

"Why did our favorite undead deserve a face full of magic?" Maurus asked, attempting to put in some levity into the words.

"He didn't," Arianna spat, folding her arms, still looking at the sky. Maurus frowned, tilting his head slightly.

"Should I worry-" he began, only to be interrupted.

"It won't happen again," she said, the words clipped and final.

"Arianna," Maurus said seriously, "what's eating at you?" He lifted a hand to place on her shoulder but she jerked away from him and his fingers closed into a tight fist.

"Nothing that won't pass" she said flatly. Maurus snorted derisively and folded his arms.

"Sure doesn't look like it'll pass," he said. He turned his gaze away from Arianna. It some of the travelers were getting ready to take care of the corpses. Arianna didn't answer.

"You sure you don't have something you want to get off your chest?" Maurus asked again.

Arianna blew out an irritated breath.

"Do you want to talk about your dealings with the goblins, Hero?"

Something twisted in his gut, even as hot anger rolled through Maurus. He snapped his gaze back to Arianna, giving her a glare, one she returned in full. Then he crouched down and snatched up his axe with a violent motion.

"Fine," he half-spat. "You should get your pet to do some heavy lifting too, this'll take a while."

With that, he turned and walked out to help with taking care of the dead.


	4. The Portal

Chasing Through Hell

The Portal

They left the nameless town in flames, the abandoned buildings turned into pyres for the dead on both sides, and marched for Deadwind Pass in a mourning silence. Though they had weathered the attack with fewer dead than Maurus had feared, the battle and the following hours of caring for the wounded and preparing the dead for burning had extinguished the cheer the caravan had managed to hold on to.

As the days passed, Maurus' bruises faded yet his mood barely improved. The corpses, Horde, Alliance, the children in particular, seemed to have leached the heat from his hands and he felt a cold exhaustion in his limbs that had little to do with the battle. It should have been a relief, knowing that the cleansing flame must have released the trapped souls and made the bodies useless to necromancers, yet thinking about the souls of undead led to wondering how aware the Lich King's slaves truly were. He'd never dared ask a forsaken about their existence prior to their awakening and he probably never would.

He definitely wasn't going to ask now, not that he had many opportunities. Mathias had made himself scarce after the short ceremony they'd held for the dead and when Maurus did see him, his expression was haunted and he stayed silent through Maurus' few attempts to talk to him.

He saw just as little of Arianna. She and the other blood elves kept to themselves and despite neither her nor any of the other blood elves ever speaking it out loud, Maurus knew not to intrude. He hardly exchanged a word with her during their remaining days in Duskwood, and only saw her when she came to work on his shield.

Not that he felt like talking much those days anyway. Left alone, Maurus brooded, his thoughts circling the horrors of the Scourge and his worries about Outland. The nights brought little relief either, because his tired mind kept conjuring up nonsensical yet terrifying dreams of dead faces, grinning demons and green flames. It was a miserable march and only when they passed into the tombstone-grey mountains between Duskwood and the Swamp of Sorrows did he shake off some of the bleak thoughts. The same evening, he was surprised to come back to his belongings and finding Mathias and Arianna sitting by the fire, talking quietly.

He felt a momentary irritation but that feeling was forgotten in a sudden rush of understanding. The firelight played over expressions that were mirror images of each other and Maurus realized that the two had showed similar expressions most of the times he'd seen them.

It seemed the two had more in common than he'd thought and he suddenly felt both stupid and immensely self-absorbed. The attack had been his first real encounter with the Scourge. He'd been barely an adult when the Third War reached Kalimdor and he'd been in the Needles, far to the south, and only ever encountered a few roaming undead. Ashenvale had been far, far away and most of the continent had barely been touched by the Legion and the Scourge. Both of his friends, sitting here by the fire, came from kingdoms the undead hard torn down. For Maurus, the horror of the encounter in Duskwood was a fresh, urgent one, but for Arianna and Mathias, it must have been worse, ripping up deep, old wounds and bringing back much worse memories.

They fell silent as he approached, and that sent a spike of hurt through him, but he paid it no mind. He reached for a sack of supplies and pushed it toward them.

"Just eat," he said. "I doubt you've fed yourself properly the past few days." With that, he turned to leave.

"Sit, Cow," Arianna said, a shade of her usual irreverence in her voice. Surprised, Maurus did as instructed, lowering himself to the ground and folding his legs. Looking closer, he saw that they both looked better, their expressions less bleak and more open. A glance passed between them, and Maurus raised a hand, forestalling anything they might say.

"Your pasts are your own, no matter my curiosity. If you wish to share, you'll do it in your own time. If you don't, then I shouldn't pry."

That got a reaction out of both of them. Mathias revealed his teeth in a more subtle version of his usual mocking grin, while Arianna's lips curved slightly. Maurus' answering smile was wider, made so by the relief of seeing them cheering up.

"My past is only half-way mine," Mathias said, sounding partly like he was correcting Maurus. The tone was nonchalant, but there was an undertone of bitter truth to the words and Maurus barely restrained a wince. He figured that answered the question of whether enslaved undead were aware. He searched for words for a moment but realized there was nothing he could say.

Something snuffled to right Maurus' and he looked toward the sound, seeing red, bone and black. He jerked away from the maw filled with jagged teeth. He relaxed almost as quickly as he had reacted though and lowered his hand, allowing Ash to press his odd head into his palm, sniffing curiously. It was slightly disconcerting how natural the demon's presence seemed and it was with a subtle sinking feeling that Maurus realized he'd actually missed the fel hound.

He looked back to Mathias and Arianna, a slight frown of annoyance on his face, but it vanished at the sight of the small smirk on Arianna's face and Mathias' widening grin. He sighed and ran a hand over the stiff bristle covering Ash' neck.

"What happened to summoning your other minions?" Maurus asked. He wasn't complaining, the void walker had been a literally chilling presence and he had no desire to spend time with imps and succubi, those he preferred on the other end of his axe, but he didn't expect that to be part of Arianna's reasoning.

"I questioned them this morning. Away from polite company," Arianna answered. "Or rather, away from company," she added, feigning disdain as she looked at him and Mathias. Her mouth set in a displeased line. "Pizbis had nothing to offer but some choice insults for everything around him. Which is par for the course."

Maurus snorted and Arianna raised an eyebrow in question.

"Piss biz?" Maurus asked slowly, drawing out the words. He chuckled and added: "Makes sense. If I had a name like that, I'd lash out too. Make sure no-one had the time to comment on my name."

Mathias' grin widened further, growing more genuine and Arianna flashed a quick smirk.

"He is inventive, even for an imp," she admitted, "but except for that and his love of fire, his head is empty. I expected as much."

Mathias waved a hand in an encouraging gesture. "Anything else?"

"Mirlia was useless too," Arianna said irritably. "And as clingy as ever."

"Succubi often are, from what I hear," Mathias said. "Most 'locks don't seem to mind."

Arianna sniffed haughtily and Maurus chuckled. "So you found this to be the time and place?" he asked and pointedly glanced right and left at the people all around them. "Hard to find a moment alone here."

She let out a sigh and, after a short moment's hesitation, gave him a flat stare. "I believe it's easier for me to escape prying eyes than it is for you," she said primly. He felt no remorse for causing the slight irritation in her voice and it actually made his lips quirk in a grin. However crude the method, there was something very satisfying about getting a rise of her, no matter how small. She lifted a foot and her eyes trailed from Maurus' right shoulder to his left. "I'm lighter on my feet and somewhat less bulky."

Maurus took in her slim limbs, recalled how smoothly and silently she moved and conceded with a lazy nod. She probably could find privacy with more ease than him, assuming nobody followed in the hopes of sharing that privacy. The last thought made his brow furrow slightly.

"And if nothing else, I have a tent." Arianna's blunt words, now free of any irritation, caught him off guard. His eyes flicked to the three small tents that stood innocently to his right, then to Arianna, who this time met his gaze with a collected, challenging one.

"Could we get back on track? Demon summoning is not more interesting here than in the Undercity." Mathias' bored words sliced through the odd mood and made both Arianna and Maurus look at him. The sight of his undead friend suddenly made Maurus' mind connect several things and a vague, pleasant mental image that had hovered in the back of his head was suddenly replaced by another, much more disturbing one, this one featuring a forsaken. A warmth he had hardly noticed vanished, replaced by a stirring nausea that he fought down with some difficulty.

"Yes?" he asked, desperately trying to get the image out of his head.

Mathias gave him a strange look and Maurus willed him to let it go, which he seemed to do, asking Arianna: "So, we have no leads? And the trail is going cold?"

"Yes," Arianna replied, and Maurus was relieved that the conversation made it possible to push the revolting mental image aside. "The tracking is getting harder, I'm guessing because he reached the Blasted Lands."

Arianna glanced at Ash, still with his head on Maurus knee, purring disturbingly as Maurus scratched his neck.

"In addition, I've exhausted my summons' knowledge, though they might pick something up now that I have asked. Their involvement might hamper us though, if something comes back to the dreadlord."

Mathias frowned, though he looked far less murderous than Maurus had expected, considering the bad news.

"On the other hand," Maurus said, "he didn't really seem to think a few mortals were a threat. He might not even care."

"Many demons are arrogant," Arianna agreed, nodding at Maurus. She smiled a cruel smile that reminded him eerily of the dreadlord's, the resemblance only magnified by her poison-green eyes. "Till they are broken in, of course."

Maurus' lips twisted in distaste and Mathias' expression was the same, but they didn't comment on her last statement.

"But you think we can pick up the track in Outland?" Mathias asked. The way he said it made Maurus realize that they had had this talk at least once without him. Arianna simply nodded.

"We should be able to get something useful out of our souvenir. And I might have friends who can help us, if there is anywhere they'll be, it's on the other side of the Portal."

Maurus made an inquiring grunt and tilted his head in question.

"You'll see when we find them."

"And if you die before then?" Mathias asked bluntly, clearly irritated at the unclear answer. Maurus glared at him and placed a hand on Arianna's shoulder. He didn't think she'd turn to violence, but then again, he did remember how she almost cursed Bronn in Ashenvale. Mathias' comment was at least as rude as that of the shaman, so he wouldn't put it past Arianna to try to teach Mathias some manners and they were under much more stress now than they were then. With a hand on her shoulder, he could both support her and hold her back by shaking her to distraction if necessary.

Luckily, Arianna didn't seem too worked up, only slightly tense beneath his fingers. No feverish warmth warned of gathering power. "You'll get someone else to track if need be, it's not that hard," she said sharply. "But I'll write some names down if you are so convinced I won't survive this."

Mathias nodded, seemingly satisfied and utterly remorseless for his morbid comment.

"How about we focus on keeping ourselves alive?" Maurus asked Mathias.

"Just covering all angles," Mathias said, giving Maurus a hard look before grinning. "Remember what we're here for."

Maurus huffed, squeezed Arianna's shoulder, glad to feel her muscles loosen, before lowering his hand.

"Then I suggest we eat," Maurus said, pointing at the sack of supplies. "I have no idea how Outland is in terms of food, so I suggest we at least try to fatten up a little." He glanced at Mathias and added: "Assuming that's how it works for you." Mathias shrugged in response, but reached out for the supplies anyway.

"And you, I know you work like other mortals, so get some food," Maurus said, jabbing his pointer finger into Arianna's side. She yelped, much to his satisfaction, and glanced at him and he gave a winning smile.

"Come on, you can't complain when someone tells you to eat."

They spent the rest of the evening chatting quietly, most of the tension dissolved, and it almost felt normal. Maurus was a little surprised at just how much he had missed their companionship and felt a little resentful that they had just abandoned him like that, but he pushed it away in order to simply enjoy their company. As the moons rose, shining their pale light on the dark, foreboding tower to the south, Arianna retired after doing her usual work on his shield, leaving Maurus, Mathias and Wiven, who had joined them.

"So, what prompted your jump from pleased to disgusted earlier? 'Cause it looked like it was looking at me that was the cause," Mathias asked lazily. Maurus' ear flicked at the words and he turned his head from the tents to Mathias. He frowned, thought back and instantly regretted it. His face twisted as the mental image of forsaken in compromising positions appeared in his head.

"Yes, that one," Mathias said, pointing a claw-like finger at Maurus. Wiven looked confused. Maurus stayed silent, willing the image to disappear again, to little effect. Figuring it was useless; he decided to share the pain instead.

"Forsaken warlocks," he said tightly. "Succubus summoning ingredient."

Mathias stared blankly at him for a moment, as did Wiven. Then Wiven paled, making his facial scars stand out starkly against his skin. Looking decidedly ill, he rose to his feet.

"I believe this is where I bid you goodnight," he said hurriedly and went away. Satisfied that he wasn't the only one suffering anymore, Maurus felt slightly better. Mathias grinned when Maurus looked back to him and held out a hand in a prompting gesture.

"Symbolic component to the summoning," Maurus sighed. "Not something I want to connect to the undead."

"That explains the disgust," Mathias said amiably. His tone turned sly when he added: "What about the appreciative expression before that?"

Maurus thought a little more and felt a soft heat rise in his body, a heat that had nothing to do with the fire. A small frown slid onto his brow as the vague, pleasing image reappeared in his mind, thankfully replacing the forsaken in his head, though also bringing confusion with it.

Mathias rose and his grin turned a little less predatory. "If it helps we have very little libido. So the warlocks might have found a way around that." Maurus raised his eyebrows, surprised that Mathias would relent in any questioning. "Unlike you," he added, his grin widening again and Maurus slumped forward. Of course Mathias wouldn't let up.

Off balance, for the second time that evening, Maurus could only give Mathias a questioning half-glare. Mathias just kept grinning as he slipped into his own tent. Maurus' eyes ran over the tents before he leaned back on his hands and returned thoughtful eyes to the flames. Without his notice, his lips quirked slightly upwards.

* * *

Arianna lost the trail the following morning.

Mathias handled the development much better than Maurus had expected, even if he had expressed greater faith in Arianna's tracking. It took just a single repeated assurance from Arianna that she'd pick it up on the other side of the Portal to satisfy him and only his fiddling with his sword betrayed how nervous he still was about losing the demon.

That anxious energy found an outlet almost as soon as they entered the Swamp of Sorrows. Even from the pass they'd been able to see the swathes the demons had burned through the mangroves and they hadn't traveled more than a few hours along the muddy road before the first demons came charging at them through the fetid waters.

It was just one of over a dozen attacks they endured on their way to Stonard, though they fared much better than Maurus had feared, mostly because of the disorganized state of the demons. It was obvious that whatever force had appeared from the Portal had lost coherence at some point and the roaming demons, while still dangerous, were nowhere near the threat they had seemed in Ashenvale. In truth, the demon's seemed almost desperate in their fury, like cornered animals, and it took a while for Maurus to figure out why:

There were trolls in the shadows of the trees, harassing the demons, herding them towards the Horde caravan, but never outright joining the fight and Maurus wished them far away. Knowing that the Atal'ai were always close unnerved him, because, unlike the Darkspears, they weren't friends of the Horde. Or of anyone for that matter. The trolls of the Sorrows were almost as likely to attack and eat members of the Horde as they were to kill demons, but they had apparently decided the demons were the more important foe and the caravan weren't directly troubled by the trolls. Maurus probably ought to be grateful, but he couldn't shake the worry that the Atal'ai would finally decide to stalk Horde instead of demons.

It was a great relief when they finally reached Stonard, the well-guarded, wooden walls making him relax enough to get a few good nights' sleep, despite the chaos of the overfilled outpost. It being the last real permanent settlement they would visit before whatever they might find in Outland, everyone got the most of the days they spent there and even Mathias seemed to take the chance to relax a little, despite his impatience with the delay. The three-day stop slipped by in the blink of an eye and before Maurus knew it, they were marching into the Blasted Lands, joined by several other caravans that had arrived earlier.

To Maurus' surprise, the trek through that desert became the most uneventful part of their journey. The scorched, rust-colored plains were open, flat and only broken by the odd crag and bluff, so they made quick progress, safe in the knowledge that there were no places to set up ambushes, ensuring that they would see any enemy long before they became a threat. They only ever saw ogres though and even then only out in the distance. It seemed even the dimwitted ogres were unwilling to attack the army, a wise choice considering the size the army had reached.

Their biggest concern was the aridity and heat of the place. There was no water anywhere and the air seemed to suck the moisture from their bodies to be carried away by the howling wind. They weren't much more than a day out from the swamp before Maurus eyes were stinging, his lips threatened to split every time he moved them and his skin and fur dried out. Wiven almost exhausted his mana each day conjuring as much water for them as he could. All the mages in the caravan had that duty and few liked it, but the blood elves in particular seemed unduly galled by it, snapping at everyone. It didn't help that many of the others ended up making a game out of riling them up.

Maurus and Mathias found that between them, it was very easy to get a rise out of Wiven. The fun lasted only a day though, before Arianna pointed out that Wiven's threats were more genuine than they'd thought, particularly those directed at Mathias. After that, they backed off, Maurus admonishing himself for the stupid behavior as he realized what it meant for Wiven to expend so much mana, day after day. Now that he looked at it, he could see the similarity between how the blood elf looked and some of the more wretched people he'd seen in Ratchet.

He made an effort to make it up to the blood elf and tried a few times to get some of the others to let up on the other blood elves, though he had limited success with the latter. Mathias seemed to let up mostly because he found it no fun to do alone and most of the others had no such reservations.

After a week of slogging through the barren, boring landscape, living on water and dry rations, with only the sight of zeppelins and the occasional messenger reminding them that they weren't the only ones going to the Portal, they saw the first sign of civilization in the Blasted Lands. Rising from a bluff to the west was Nethergarde Keep, a fortress of grey-white stone, stained by the dust in streaks and patches so it looked like the walls were bleeding. Above the battlements flew the purple banners of Dalaran and the blue of the Alliance.

A mile to the west of the keep, spreading out from the foot of a large hill, was a city of rough tents, ranging in color from dirt-brown to bloody red. Deep ditches lined with wooden spikes surrounded the camp and soldiers in red armor patrolled the perimeter. A huge zeppelin was outlined against the sky where it stood near the camp, workers scurrying over it to unload its cargo. The myriad colors that dotted the camp, banners of different clans and tribes, more than anything revealed that the camp was Horde.

Maurus nodded in respect towards the keep. Even if the Portal had been inactive for years, recent events had served to prove how important the duty was and the men and women of the keep was worthy of great respect for sacrificing easier lives for thankless work in the inhospitable lands. Maurus himself would like nothing more than never seeing the Blasted Lands again and he'd only been here a week and a half. He wondered at the kind of people who could stand it year after year.

Arianna noticed his gaze. "I have family there," she said and Maurus looked at her in surprise. Judging by the expression of light confusion that flitted across her delicate features, she hadn't meant to say that and the short pause that followed before she continued added to that impression. "At the very least, I know I had."

Before Maurus could ask for elaboration, Wiven spoke from behind him: "We haven't heard from them in years."

Maurus glanced back at him before eying Arianna, noting how her expression had settled into a mix of irritation and sadness. He could understand missing family, his own wandering life made his visits with family few and far between but there was something else there. He debated for a moment before asking: "Do you have any idea why?"

"They could be dead," she said simply.

"Or gone through the portal," Wiven said.

Arianna's expression hardened, though there was a hint of brittleness to it. "Maybe they cut contact because we joined Illidan and the Horde."

Maurus snorted, giving the Keep a more hostile look. "And I was just about to tell you I admired them. I still do, but scorning kin?" He shook his head and scowled. "Blood is blood."

Arianna' dark expression lightened slightly and she glanced down her red robes. "That is one of the reasons behind the name we have given ourselves. The blood of the fallen cry for the blood of our enemies, but we also think of ourselves as of one blood now."

Maurus' heart sank in sympathy. He raised his hand and enveloped her shoulder with his huge fingers. Mathias patted her other shoulder lightly, but for him, that gesture of support was huge.

"You're not alone anymore," Maurus said firmly. He reached behind him with his other hand and grabbed hold of Wiven, dragging him forward into a one-armed hug, making him squirm uselessly. "And now we are going to reunite you with your kin on the other side."

A murmur went through the crowd and Maurus faced forward, following the gaze of the people around him. He felt a surge of apprehension and awe when he looked past the banners and pennants over the camp and noticed the massive stone edifice appearing beyond the hill. He guessed he could see about half of the Dark Portal, the rest of it hidden by the edge of the crater it stood in, but it still seemed to loom forebodingly, ash-grey stone lit by the swirling green fire inside the gate. Points of the same light glowed within the stone hoods of the statues along the sides of the gate and within the eyes of the carved snake twisting along the slab topping the gate.

His grip on Arianna slackened and he released Wiven as the bottom dropped out of his stomach. The Portal, so very real and solid, was now so close. Tomorrow, they would cross between worlds. A small tremble went through him as the thought sunk in.

"We're really here," he said. He cursed how weak he sounded, but the path ahead of him terrified him. The events in Ashenvale had been trying enough yet now they were going to a world where the demons succeeded. In the back of his mind he asked himself why he'd gotten involved in this.

"Yes. We are," Arianna said. There was apprehension in the words, but far more eagerness, and Maurus glanced down at her again before his gaze drifted to Mathias and Wiven, finding several reasons to gather up his courage: Duty, friends, honor. He'd sworn to help Mathias and, in truth, Maurus himself had a score to settle for the men who'd died in the traps in the canyon. Besides that, Arianna, and Wiven, had people to find in Draenor and Maurus wanted to be there for that.

' _And seeing a new world isn't bad either,'_ he told himself, able to muster a spark of excitement from the thought. It would be quite a proving ground at least and if he succeeded in his quest, he would have much to be proud of.

"Never thought I'd go to other worlds. Not in this life," he said, his voice somewhat steadier. Arianna ran her fingers along his hand and the warm touch made more of his anxiety disappear.

Mathias gave him a crooked smile, turning his sword over in his hand. "Neither did I. But here we are. A shame we're are going to camp first."

The camp was their last stop before entering the portal, a place to rest and prepare for Outland and the likely chaotic situation on the Hellfire Peninsula. The night didn't offer much rest though. The atmosphere was one quite fitting to Maurus' mood, one of hectic preparation and silent anxiety and instead of sleeping, many seemed to prefer making the most of their last night in Azeroth. The camp was noisier than any he'd been in in years, so Maurus didn't get much sleep. It didn't help that his demon-filled nightmares returned in full force that night, so when they rose and departed early the next morning, Maurus felt as groggy as those who had abandoned sleep entirely looked.

Most of the sleepiness was quickly chased off by his worries though, when they turned toward the Portal, leaving him irritable but alert as they marched toward the crater and the remaining traces of drowsiness were burned away when they passed over the crater edge.

Maurus' breath escaped him as he took in the entire Dark Portal. It stood at the center of the wide hollow, a towering construction of grey stone many times his height. A ramp, wide enough for a dozen tauren to walk shoulder to shoulder, led from the barren ground up to a wide platform, from which the gate rose high above the crater floor. The statues standing vigil on either side of the gate looked even more threatening from here, dark, cloaked figures, each holding a long, stone sword, point down. Both the statues and the snake over the gate seemed to glare down at them as they descended the slope, the light of the gate making it look like the snake and the cloaks twisted minutely.

The wind came over the edge and plunged toward the portal, as if drawn from the Blasted Lands into the unnatural hole in reality that was the gaping maw of the Portal. He wondered briefly, irrationally, if there was any air on the other side of the gate, before he pushed the idea aside.

He hardly noticed the siege engines and the defensive embankments around the foot of the gate. The soldiers manning them made no impression on him and he was only barely aware that both Horde and Alliance walked side by side, in two loose columns with their animals, toward the Portal. He was completely captivated by the Portal which grew higher and higher above him. It was a surprise when he heard the clack of his hoof coming down on the stone ramp and despite the noise of the marching army, the sound of his hooves on the stone seemed deafening. His heart beat quicker with each step up the ramp and each row of soldiers he saw vanish into the Portal.

' _This must be how it feels walking to the headsman's block,'_ he thought and it shocked him out of the daze. He grit his teeth, tried digging up anger to reinforce his courage with and looked around him. Arianna and Wiven looked as serious as they ever had and they held their staves in white knuckled grips. Mathias was grinning widely, though his stance was tense, as if itching for violence and he kept turning his sword in his hands.

Casting his gaze farther, he saw similar signs of worry all around him, among both Alliance and Horde, orcs and trolls showing teeth and fiddling with weapons, dwarfs and humans pulling on their beards and hair, night elves looking like deer ready to bolt or cats ready to pounce, gnomes fidgeting.

' _At least I'm not alone,'_  he thought. It was little comfort though, growing smaller with each step up the ramp. The ascent seemed never-ending, yet was still over in the blink of an eye and his heart beat a heavy rhythm against his ribs as he stepped toward the towering gateway, now completely unable to tear his gaze away from the green fire and dark void facing him. It was lucky he didn't have any time to hesitate or he might have lost his nerve. As it was, he could either go in himself or be pushed by the row behind him when they got impatient. He held his breath as he stepped forward, afraid in a way he had never experienced before.

The world lurched and turned upside down. Then it turned sideways as the void swallowed him.


	5. Fragile Ground

Chasing Through Hell

Fragile Ground

Maurus swept through the void, formless and weightless, yet with a dizzying sensation of violent movement. He thought in a brief moment of clarity that having his mind spread over an entire swarm of bees would feel similar, though the thought vanished just as quickly in the jumble of sensations that assaulted him. Bizarre sights scintillated before him, impossible to make sense off, colors and shapes he had never seen before and would have been at a loss to describe if asked. He could not decide whether the void was perfectly silent or roaring with sound and the temperature around him shifted erratically, leaping from pleasant to freezing to blazing with no rhythm and no warning.

Finally, after what seemed like both an instant and a year, his hooves clacked onto stone, hard, and he stumbled forward, feeling faint and oddly heavy. He gasped for air, feeling like he'd surfaced from a long dive, and each breath stung his nose and mouth with a familiar, acrid smell. His vision was fuzzy with lights that throbbed in time with the blood pounding in his head.

Someone with a deep, slightly hoarse voice bellowed out for the Horde newcomers, shouting at them to keep moving. Maurus paid little attention to the actual words, hurrying down the huge stone steps toward the red banners flying over the sprawling Horde camp at the foot of the Portal. As they descended the stairs, his senses began to sharpen from the numbed state that the trip through the Portal had put them in. His vision cleared, the people around him coming into focus and he was glad to see Mathias, Arianna and Wiven around him. He became aware of the bustle of people around him and the hot wind which swept past him, away from the portal, tugging at his armor, clothing and fur. He noticed the soft splat under his hoof at the same time the sour stench of sick hit his nostrils, along with the realization that the caustic smell of the dust reminded him of the stones Arianna gave him. He looked down, saw the puddle of vomit he'd stepped in, one among many dotting the worn stones, and felt like his stomach arrived in that moment, apparently shaken, squeezed and abused thoroughly. The nausea rolled up through his body, making him gag and he only just kept moving instead of dropping to a knee in the vomit. He managed to force back the urge to empty his stomach, though just barely, leaving him breathing carefully, his stomach churning sickeningly with each step and each breath of the stinging, dusty air.

Some of the other new arrivals weren't so lucky. The ugly sound of someone being sick met his ears, along with wet splashes, coarse laughter and harsh urgings to keep moving.

He raised his gaze from the spots of half-digested mush on the stone to get his thoughts off vomiting and gaped as he stared out over the blood red landscape, an uneven land of hills and sharp, broken mountains. At the foot of the Portal, between the Horde camp and the white tents and blue banners of the similarly huge Alliance camp, a wide road of packed red dirt began. It cut a path, between towering columns of grey stone, from the Portal to the dark fortress in the distance, which rose like a wall across the land. The sky was dark and deep and worryingly, he could see more of it where the land simply fell away, like he was on a thin slice of land and not on something solid and massive like in Azeroth. Red and blue moons hung in the air, huge and heavy, looking close enough to touch, and what looked like frozen lightning or maybe this world's version of the aurora floated above, demonic green and ghostly.

It was an altogether alien place. The landscape might on first glance appear similar to the Blasted Lands, but the crumbled edges of the land and the sky told him differently. So did the foul taste of the air, so much more pronounced than the slight edge there had been to on the other side of the Portal. He was breathing corrupted earth, and it burned his nostrils and unsettled his stomach with each inhale.

Mouth twisting with worry at what just being here might do to him, he looked to his left and decided that this world wasn't any fairer than Azeroth. The only indication that Mathias had traveled between the worlds was a slight swaying in his movements and the expression of wide-eyed awe on his face. He was looking around curiously, his smile widening briefly every time his eyes fell on the sickly people around them.

"So this is the promised land," Wiven said, giving a giddy chuckle that Maurus was glad to hear after how short-tempered he'd been all the way through the Blasted Lands. When Maurus turned to him however, his cheer changed into concern. Wiven looked almost feverish and his wide, wild smile and blazing eyes looked dangerous, illuminated from below by the fire that danced around his fingertips, golden flame tinged with green.

"Ride it, Wiven. Don't drown." Arianna's words were quiet and admonishing, but there was a breathy quality to her voice and her eyes were just as bright with green fire, as was her staff. Maurus' eyes strayed to her chest as it rose and fell with deep breaths and he could have sworn she seemed lighter on her feet, almost floating down the steps.

"Drown?" Wiven giggled, the fire in his hands solidifying into a luminous serpent that slithered around his palm like a living thing. "I'm coming up for air. This place may not be as beautiful as home, but I  _like_ it!"

Maurus watched the two with worry and distaste, his own discomfort a stark contrast to their apparent pleasure. Glancing around, he noted that the other blood elves he spotted, along with a few orcs and forsaken, were the only ones that didn't look somewhat queasy. Instead, they looked invigorated.

"Don't set yourself on fire before you get to enjoy it then. Or me," Maurus grumbled. He reached across Arianna, holding out his waterskin to Wiven. He licked quickly drying lips. "Maybe use one of your other tricks. If anything, this place could use more water."

Wiven's enthusiasm dimmed for a moment, but he snatched the waterskin as he let the fire construct fade and murmured the summoning words, his lips still stretched in a broad smile. It seemed he was happy just using the magic, whatever the purpose.

As Maurus withdrew his arm, Arianna caught his eyes and he tried to school his expression. He hadn't been quick enough, or maybe it was just his tone that gave him away. He felt a thin stab of remorse in his gut at seeing her eyes narrow and her lazy smile fade.

"You never seem as affected as I am," he attempted, trying for a good-natured grumble.

"You're not as experienced as us," Arianna said, her tone surprisingly light.

"Though the elf has been working on that," Mathias said bluntly. Maurus looked between them, head tilting in question.

"Don't tell me you don't find anything familiar about the air?" Mathias asked.

"Powdered 'health' stone," Maurus said, wrinkling his nose. It was already beginning to feel like it did after weeks with a bad cold, his nostrils raw and likely to begin bleeding with little provocation. "So?"

"You have built up a little tolerance, "Arianna said. "Without it, you would have been coughing up your breakfast with the rest of them."

"And here I thought they just had weaker stomachs than me," Maurus muttered as his guts turned with worry instead of the fading nausea. He hadn't really thought the health stones would have lasting effect. He turned to Arianna, his worry flaring into anger, and for a moment thought she looked taken aback at his scowl. "Is that why you've been dumping them all on me? To toughen me up?"

She hesitated for a blink of an eye. "Also so you didn't bleed to death or dropped your insides," she said.

"I can tie a bandage," Maurus said hotly.

"Well, I apologize for saving you money and time," Arianna said, her tone turning flat. "You could have said no."

"I-" Maurus began, but his retort died in his throat, because she was right. He'd accepted them pretty easily and now he directed his irritation at himself for that. He should at least have only taken them when his need was great enough, but instead he'd let her convince him when she insisted that he might as well get back to full strength as soon as possible.

"If it is any comfort, I have never seen ill effects worse than getting sick from those stones," Arianna said, her voice growing languid. She glanced at him, a small teasing smile appearing on her face as she raised an eyebrow and her voice matched her smile when she added: "I doubt you'll begin sprouting more horns or the like, and you were frothing at the mouth already when we met."

"I froth?" Maurus asked, surprised at how easily her words and smile calmed him. He lifted an arm, but stopped himself before he could wipe his mouth. Arianna didn't miss the motion and let out a delicate, amused snort.

"A little. Mostly you're loud and somewhat erratic."

They reached the bottom of the long stairs and turned toward the Horde camp. Maurus looked at Mathias, who shrugged.

"You do use those lungs of yours. And lose sight of things around you at times."

Maurus swallowed "I guess I need to work on that," he said, somewhat glumly. "It's a bad meatshield that isn't there."

"You do draw attention well enough," Mathias said easily as they walked into the camp. "Just learn to stick close to us and we'll bear with the noise and spittle."

"I'll try," Maurus said. He glanced around as they walked between the tents, apparently toward an almost empty area some ways ahead. "I'm not the attention-grabber around here though."

Unlike most of the newcomers, Maurus' little group garnered some attention, especially from the long procession of soldiers and casters that walked past them in the opposite direction alongside kodo's laden with supplies and siege equipment. Eyes narrowed when they fell on Ash, who loped around the feet of their group, skull-like head close to the ground like an eager wolf-pup picking up trails in spring. The gazes grew no gentler when they trailed over the rest of them and Maurus' ears twitched with each occasional dark muttering that reached them. Only a minority showed such open hostility, but the weight of the glares was enough that Maurus felt himself tense in case someone decided get physical.

"They don't exactly look thrilled," he muttered.

Despite no doubt having heard all the murmurs much more clearly than Maurus did, Arianna shrugged. "Foreign lands, crawling with demons. They're bound to be nervous. I doubt they'll try anything, they know they need everyone they can get. And there are lots of us."

She nodded to her left and Maurus spotted a small group of robed orcs and forsaken, crouched around a fire at the center of a circle of tents. Various demons stood or lay around them.

"I think you underestimate the enthusiasm of some of us," Maurus replied, not missing the looks that wandered between the warlocks and his own little group. He smiled half-heartedly and nodded at a very impressive trophy pole rising above a cluster of tents, festooned with hides and skulls, among them red, coarse pelts and misshapen orc skulls. "Savages, remember?"

She looked at him skeptically and he realized she was vastly more confident in the restraint of the people in the camp than he was. "Please be a little careful?" he sighed.

Her skepticism morphed into a confident smirk, with an edge that was slightly similar to Wiven's smile.

"If someone wishes to die, I'll oblige them," she said, rolling her fingers once before shadows shifted weirdly across her hand, tinged with purple light. Maurus huffed out a breath, eyes following the play of shadow and purple.

"You should follow your own advice," he said flatly, nodding at Wiven as he returned the now full waterskin. Arianna's eyes flicked to Wiven as he again summoned fire, setting tongues of flame to dance around his hand. Her smirk faltered, and she closed her fingers into a fist, extinguishing the light she'd summoned.

"You should save it for the demons anyway," Maurus said, his tone gentler than before.

"I have enough to spare," Arianna said. Her posture changed though, her back straightening and her moves becoming less loose. Maurus could also hear the audible change as she made an effort to take more controlled, slightly shallower breaths.

"Then put it to practical use. Track," Mathias cut in. He continued in a less serious tone: "Turning the magic to that instead of frying our allies will make the lynch mob less likely."

Arianna glanced at Mathias, an eyebrow raised, before she shifted her gaze to Maurus. He shrugged, the gesture nonchalant.

"I'm with him. I don't want to hit other Horde over the head because the idiots react badly to your light shows."

That made the corner of her mouth turn upwards just slightly.

"I'll get to it when I have a moment."

By the time they'd set up their tents, in an area only just vacated by the throng of people they'd passed on their way through the camp, Arianna picked up the trail. Though it eased Maurus' and Mathias' worries, she could still only give them the general direction of 'west', directly towards the scarred and half-broken walls of Hellfire Citadel and the dreadlord might simply be further west. If they'd been assigned the regiments that were going out to surround the Citadel, Arianna might have been able to triangulate, as she called it, but seeing as they weren't, they would only know when they captured the Citadel.

It was an undertaking Maurus couldn't help but dread.

For now though, they had little to do, except for Wiven, who'd placed in front of a barrel and told conjure water. The other three had received no orders other than to be ready in case of attack and the camp was peaceful, in defiance of what Maurus had expected of Outland, so Arianna set off to find the colleagues she'd mentioned. Maurus tagged along in spite of her token protests while Mathias stayed behind.

The group they wanted proved more elusive than Maurus had expected however, and it took most of the day to simply get directions.

"This would have gone smoother without you," Arianna muttered, though with little heat, as she and Maurus ducked out from another large tent, leaving the muggy, sweaty, beer-stinking air behind them. She turned and followed Ash, her steps much more purposeful now that she finally had a specific goal in mind.

Maurus wiped drops of beer from his muzzle and asked: "Really?"

She sighed irritably. "I think you the sight of you made some rats go to ground."

Maurus sidestepped a large orc with heavy braids, who'd passed Ash with such force that the demon growled at him, and answered: "And why is that?"

Arianna sniffed and gave him a look, her eyes lingering on his mail and pauldrons. "You may look mercenary," she said, "but you still don't seem the sort that appreciates the more subtle methods of war."

"I'm not against fighting smart. And fooling demons suits me just fine," Maurus said. He recalled some of the conversations he'd overheard, more or less idle talk about ways to crack Hellfire Citadel and muttered: "But there are some weapons that shouldn't be used."

"Which ones?" Arianna asked, glancing between Maurus' weapons and the top of her staff, where the crystal still shone brighter than it had anywhere but the caves on the edge of Ashenvale. The question had a note of deliberate derision, but Maurus doubted she was as disinterested as she appeared.

' _Why'd I say that?'_ he thought and shook his head, irritation mixing with old shame and a fresh worry.

Arianna shrugged at his silence and said: "Well, you can rest easy. Considering that we want to occupy the Citadel, I think plague and poison will remain in the cauldrons."

Maurus' ears twitched and he swallowed, actions Arianna didn't miss, judging by the curious glint in her eyes. He shook his head again and muttered: "Leave it?"

"I'm not exactly enthusiastic about disease either," Arianna said, a soft undertone to her voice.

"All the more reason to let it lie," he replied tightly. Arianna considered him carefully, expression growing slightly colder, but that did not make him any more eager to discuss the subject and she didn't pick up the conversation either.

They continued through the camp in silence until Ash stopped and sat down next to a moderately sized, box-shaped tent, completely unremarkable as far as Maurus could see, on the edge of a square of open land. A completely wizened forsaken sat beside the closed tent-flap, looking at them with empty eye-sockets.

"Blades?" he asked disinterestedly, tilting his head and giving Maurus another blank look.

"Peak," Arianna answered. Maurus wondered whether there was a deeper meaning or the passwords were wholly random. It was still a little odd to him, seeing that the reality of 'cloak and dagger'-business fit so well with his assumptions.

"Guests," the forsaken called through the tent flap and waved them through.

The tent was lower than Maurus would have liked, and he was unable to stand upright in the dimly lit tent. The air was even hotter than outside and pungent with the smell of burnt herbs, food and drink and something distinctive he'd begun to associate with warlocks and mages. That made a lot of sense considering the tent's occupants. A mix of forsaken, trolls and orcs were scattered around the tent, two thirds of them with either a mug or a pipe in their hands. Most of them were clad in robes that betrayed their arcane talent, like the staffs at their sides, though leather and mail marked four of the occupants as a more martial sort. A succubus had draped herself over an orc in one corner and there was an imp juggling fireballs in front of a group of four gathered on one side of the tent, something that made Maurus glance worriedly at the dry canvas walls. All gazes turned to the entrance and a sullen hush fell over the tent when they trailed from Arianna to Maurus.

Maurus returned the looks he got with equal heat, though he remained silent, unsure of how to proceed. Arianna had not such qualms, striding toward the central ring of people, seven practitioners and an orc in worn leathers gathered around a mess of papers, maps and letters from what Maurus could see.

"Carver, Croaker," Arianna said as she reached the circle, nodding at the leather-clad orc and a female forsaken who's white robes were lined with pale purple. Both nodded back, and there the air grew lighter at the acknowledgement, as most of the other people inside lost interest. Maurus tilted his head at the odd names.

"Weaver," the forsaken, Croaker apparently, replied around the long pipe in her mouth, returning the nod. She was one of the more desiccated forsaken Maurus had seen, looking like a corpse that had been preserved by heat and sand. The only thing revealing where she looked was the glint of light in the back of her empty eye sockets. Carver nodded as well and gestured for Arianna to sit, though he kept his eyes on Maurus, small eyes glaring out between his greasy, long hair.

"Who Milky ther'?" he asked. He spoke so lazily that the words almost completely merged together. Maurus' eyes flicked down to the white fur on his muzzle, then back up to the orc. He was already beginning to dislike that one.

"Mau-" he began, but Arianna spoke over him, tone wry: "Milky will suffice."

Maurus gave Arianna a incredulous look and bent down to sit next to her and Ash.

"We haven't given you permission to sit, tauren," a clear, boyish voice snapped and Maurus froze in a crouch. The voice hardly seemed to fit the thoroughly rotted forsaken in scarlet who'd spoken and the complete lack on expression on his noseless face was equally at odds with his impatient tone.

Maurus raised his eyebrows, caught the forsaken's eyes, then dropped down onto the ground and crossed his arms. "I don't being told what to do. Especially not by someone I don't even know," he said lowly. His words seemed to offend about half the room, as if he'd broken some rule.

"Then you should go where you are welcome," the forsaken replied coldly, still refusing to give any kind of name. He shifted his attention to Arianna. "Exactly why have you brought an outsider? And a tauren at that?"

Maurus bristled and his fingers tightened on his arm, but he kept quiet. As much as he wanted to give both the forsaken and that orc a good smack, it would probably reflect badly on Arianna. Not to mention that he might just get fried, cursed or mindblasted before he even reached the rude bastards.

"He mostly brought himself," she said unconcernedly.

"Why didn't you lose 'im?" asked Carver. "We're more in th'open now, but tha's no reason fo' no caution."

"Relax, Carver, Zolan said he was alright," Croaker admonished. That seemed to sooth some tempers slightly, though Maurus still felt more tolerated than welcome. Croaker gestured to Arianna and said: "Please."

"As you just might know, the two of us and Mathias, a forsaken, are on a hunt," Arianna said. "I'm assuming that not just Croaker and Carver know about the debacle in Ashenvale and the Barrens?"

"It is sort of our business to know of the Legion's movements," said the forsaken who'd protested Maurus' presence. He seemed to be speaking for everyone, so Maurus mentally dubbed him Speaker, forgoing several less flattering names like Noseless and Scarlet. Several of the people in the circle glanced at Maurus again, seemingly reevaluating him.

"Earth'n Ring?" Carver asked.

Before Maurus could respond, Arianna snorted. "Hardly. He's sensitive enough. Had he been shaman or druid, I doubt he'd have put up with me."

"I'm surprised I do," Maurus said, dryly. His speaking seemed to irritate some of the people around him and he took slight satisfaction in it. He added, more seriously: "Now, the quicker any of you gives us what help you can in locating our dreadlord, the quicker you'll be free of me and back to your skulking business."

A forsaken and two of the seated orcs snorted scornfully. Speaker again said what seemed to be on their minds: "Seeing as we are apparently going to tolerate the tauren, we might as well get this over with. But really, finding a particular demon? In Outland?"

"It did strike me as somewhat ambitious when I read your letter," Croaker said neutrally as she looked at Arianna. "You hardly seemed to have anything to go on, without even a name."

"Not that it matters much, because you are in the wrong place. No dreadlord has passed through the Portal," Speaker said. He added snidely: "With how alert we are, I think we'd notice."

"There are some things I didn't mention in the letter," Arianna said, lifting the piece of horn from her backpack and setting it down gently in front of her. Ash's head jerked up and sniffed the air curiously. The rest of the practitioners seated around them looked taken aback.

"Ah, I  _thought_ you were very vague," Croaker said and a small smile appeared on her face. "This does change things a bit. As does the fact that we have a name for you. Ven'Zarul seems to be who you're looking for, a low-ranking commander, according to the captives. And Zolan sends his regards."

"He's here?" Maurus asked, trading pleased smiles with Arianna at the news. It might not be much, but every little bit made the search easier.

Croaker shook her head. "He sent a message. Arrived with a gaggle of orcs, trolls and goblins who'd gone by zeppelin."

"Still, no free demon has passed the Portal," Speaker insisted, but his gaze remained locked on the piece of horn.

"This tells me otherwise," Arianna said firmly, running her fingers across the smooth horn. "I can see you know what this is and you are very welcome to corroborate my findings."

"Sloppy dreadlord," someone murmured, eliciting a few half-hearted chuckles. One of the warlocks, a female orc in loud purple robes, reached out for the horn, closing her eyes as she began the tracking spell Maurus had come to recognize easily.

"Zolan and his men are good," Maurus said firmly, jaw tensing at slight to Zolan's skills. He got three nods in response, one from a forsaken he'd hardly noticed, one from Croaker and, more surprisingly, one from Speaker.

"More worryingly, Ven'Zarul can apparently shapechange," Arianna said, bringing the conversation back on track. The words instantly stopped the chuckles. A heavy pressure settled on the room as all levity fled the room and all eyes again fell on Arianna.

"That's nonse-" Speaker began, but Arianna interrupted him:

"He was in Ratchet for days. There was nothing else in that direction except water. And how else would a dreadlord cross the ocean and get through the Portal without notice? We may have traitors and mercenaries in our ranks, but last I checked, none of the cults had their own ships and even pirates and smugglers aren't stupid enough to transport demons. The Scourge is as hostile to them as we are. Now he is somewhere to the west, maybe the Citadel."

A hush fell over the room after that declaration, leaving only the low buzz coming from outside and the quiet murmur of the orc warlock as the only sounds inside.

"As'f traitors weren't 'nough," Carver said eventually. "Any limits t'changin'?"

Arianna shrugged.

"This is going higher up then," Speaker said, all traces of irritation and derision replaced with seriousness. "Then they'll have to decide what to think and how to handle it. Anything else?"

"He is on this side of the Portal. South-southwest," the orc warlock murmured, opening her red eyes and lifting her hand from the horn. Maurus felt his lips pull up into a smug smirk and out the corner of his eye he saw a similar expression on Arianna's face.

Croaker cleared her throat, a sound like a death rattle. "I can give you directions to the ones who were around for Ven's battles."

"That wouldn't hurt. We have more need for free movement though," Arianna replied. "Hunting is hard if we get stuck."

Croaker glanced at Speaker, then at Maurus, and he wasn't sure he liked her speculative look. "Zolan said you have some ability and quite a set of lungs. We might be able to think of something," she said vaguely.

"We'd appreciate that," Maurus said politely. Again, it seemed he'd spoken out of turn, though the room seemed less ruffled this time.

"Now, as the matters that concern the tauren has been dealt with, I think it's time he leaves," Speaker said. His tone was almost completely businesslike, but Maurus was sure he detected a hint of satisfaction in the dismissal. He narrowed his eyes at Speaker, then very deliberately turned to Arianna and tilted his head in question.

"It'll take a little while. Keep Mathias company," she said. At the flat look he gave her, she rolled her eyes and added, voice airy and amiable: "Or, if you must, find something to entertain yourself within sight. I'll make it quick."

Maurus rose, nodded at the people around him, receiving nods from some, even Speaker, and turned for the exit, wondering at Speaker's very odd mix of seriousness, honest acknowledgements and contemptuousness.

"Well-trained, that one," someone murmured as he lifted the tent flap.

"He's not a dog," Arianna said, voice flat, and her defense stopped him from turning around and violently correcting the one who'd spoken. Instead he let the tent flap fall behind him, just making out her addition of: "He's courteous, sensible and more than capable of ripping out your crumbling spine."

Cheered by Arianna's words, he struck up a conversation with the forsaken outside. Kristoff, as his name turned to be, hid a hint of amiability under his exterior of apathy and seemed to find it funny that he'd named the forsaken Speaker. He didn't like him either, mentioning that he always acted like he his opinion was that of everyone, but Kristoff appeared to respect him.

As they waited, people began to gather in the square in front of them and eventually Maurus joined them to see what it was about. It turned out they were waiting for a trio of executions. Two orcs and a forsaken stood, chained and restrained by two grunts each a couple of yards from a chopping block that was a spattered with almost black red. Next to the block their lives would end on stood a female orc, clad in heavy steel plate, a long, heavy sword resting on her left shoulderpad, patiently waiting, though Maurus didn't quite know what. Maybe just for the right amount of people to watch, because by the time Arianna joined him some time later, looking tired and irritable, the executions had begun, with no cue that Maurus had seen. The forsaken and one orc had been decapitated, their crimes of treason, sabotage and espionage called out to the crowd by the executioner before they met their end, something they both did with surprising stoicism.

There was a sense that the last orc was the worst of the three. As he was pushed towards the block, the crowd was quiet, by Horde standards, but the angry, grim voices of the spectators still merged into an angry drone like that of an enormous hive of stirred bees, making it hard to hear the curses thrown out by the last condemned orc. In spite of his fury, it was obvious that he knew the battle was lost, as he only struggled half-heartedly against the two grunts holding him, but it was just as clear that his pride didn't allow him to go quietly, hence the curses.

Maurus frowned as he regarded the orc, whose face was half-hidden by the heavy braids swinging around his head. What was visible was swollen from day-old blows and a tusk had been chipped.

"Haven't we seen-" he asked, turning to Arianna and trailing off as he realized that she couldn't quite see over the crowd. He had no trouble as long as he raised his long neck as much as he could, but she only just reached his face when his head hung low and the people in front of them were tall.

"Hm?" she asked, eyebrow raised in impatient question.

In answer, Maurus grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her into the air, ignoring her surprised gasp and finishing his question this time: "Where have I seen that orc before?"

She twisted in his grip and when she didn't answer immediately he placed her on his shoulder before pointing to the orc. Despite the beating he'd taken, the face was familiar.

Though she fit remarkably well on Maurus' broad shoulder, Arianna sat stiffly for a moment while someone behind them muttered in irritation about not being able to see. Then she took hold of his mane, harder than he thought necessary, and grew more relaxed. Her fingers were hot on his skin, not quite as feverish as when she worked her craft, but close.

"I wonder," she said, her voice unconcerned, but not as impatient as she had seemed a moment ago. He felt her weight shift, tugging hard on his hair as she leaned forward a little. "We see a lot of people."

"I don't remember just everyone, this one's recent," Maurus said, "and stop pulling out my hair."

"You put me here. I have to keep from falling off somehow," she said lightly. Maurus snorted and wrapped an arm around her legs, again noting the strong heat of her limbs. She leaned back a little, letting his hair go but letting her hand remain on his neck.

"Now you're safe," he said. "Now, who is that orc?"

Before she could answer, a hush fell over the crowd again. The orc was pushed down onto his knees and his curses fell away too, though Maurus could see from his expression that it wasn't from fear and the silence only lasted a few heartbeats.

"Grollun. For gutless murder, bloody betrayal of friends and kin and treason against the Horde, your life is forfeit," the executioner called out, her rough voice ringing clear across the crowd. Maurus scowled at the traitor and a few among the crowd shouted obscenities at Grollun.

The kneeling orc didn't react to the angry shouts though. He simply glared daggers at his executioner as his head was forced onto the block and spat, words loud if a little slurred from the beating: "You dimwitted dogs. I have done none of those things and you will learn that to your own regret. You will get lost between shadow and light and the ancestors will shun you for unjustly taking my life."

Maurus bared his teeth at the vile curse and the crowd erupted with snarls and growls. His heart beat faster as the sword fell in a final arc of steel. The sound of the sword slicing through the orc's thick throat was lost in the noise of the crowd, as was the thud Maurus knew must have sounded as the sword imbedded itself in the block. The head dropped to the red earth, and the spray of blood painted the face like warpaint, which fell in thick drops when the executioner lifted the head by the braids.

"This is the fate of our enemies!" she shouted and Maurus joined the crowd as it roared in answer. It was a long moment of primal unity, and Maurus felt like his heart beat in tune with the other spectators, strong and steady. Then the executioner lowered the head and the moment ended, the crowd quieting again. The show was over, though Maurus still followed the severed head with his eyes, again trying to make the connection.

"I missed it, thanks to you and your whore."

This time Maurus didn't ignore the grumbling behind him, feeling a hot surge of fury, a fraction of what he felt in battle, and whirled around to face the speaker. The sudden motion cut off Arianna's low, incomprehensible murmur as she almost slid of his shoulder and her fingers tightening on his hair again didn't improve his mood.

The pale troll coming into view looked taken aback by the reaction and he didn't manage to collect himself before Maurus' free hand darted out, grabbing the troll's turquoise robe and drawing him so close his tusks almost touched Maurus' muzzle.

"You say something?" he growled darkly, staring into the troll's green eyes. Ash let out a menacing rumble from his place at Maurus' left hoof.

"No," the troll muttered sullenly, after an instant's hesitation, no real remorse in his voice. Maurus shook him violently, sparing a brief moment's attention to roll the shoulder Arianna was on, interrupting her new string of demonic. Then he pushed the troll hard, sending him stumbling to the ground with a grunt.

"Good. Keep it that way," Maurus said, stepping past the troll. Now that the execution was over and the grunts were hauling the body away, there would be no more opportunities to get another look. He'd just have to remember the face and see if he could place it later. He turned his head to Arianna, who was half-turned, looking back over her shoulder. He smirked as he said sarcastically: "Good that you held back on the curses."

The words had hardly passed his lips when Arianna hissed: "Kneel!"

The note of command in her voice had him reacting without any conscious thought. His knee hit the ground just before he heard brittle, shattering chime and felt a dulled impact against his back. The air around him instantly dropped in temperature, though it didn't become much colder than a chilly morning in Desolace.

Before he managed any response, Arianna rattled off a rapid spell. Against his arm and his neck, he felt the hot flash of her magic running through her and a whisper of a scream writhed in the air, accompanied by a short flash of green from Arianna's staff. A real shout of fright met his ears, the voice almost unrecognizable from the sullen mutter the troll had spoken in before and Maurus spun again, just in time to see the troll run in blind terror directly away from him, crossing the dirt path and tumbling into a tent he failed to notice because he was looking over his shoulder.

Maurus knew the fear spell had only lasted moments, but the growl of the tent's owner promised that the troll would be occupied a while longer. The hands reaching out to grab the troll was a sign that the he wasn't getting out without bruises.

"You were saying?" Arianna said slowly, voice lazily smug yet tinged with something predatory.

"An earlier spell might have been good," he said grudgingly, though he was grinning as he watched the troll get shoved again. That might teach him a little self-restraint. "But the others didn't sound as harmless. Think I saved us a little trouble, all in all."

He glanced up at Arianna. There was something languid and catlike about her posture, relaxed, pleased, her hand a light, hot weight on his neck. It was a stark contrast to the chill he could feel seeping through his armor and into his back.

He reached a hand around and found the metal of his shield, cold, but not as painfully freezing as he'd expected. He smiled at Arianna.

"Seems it holds up to stronger stuff than imp fire. You do good work," he said simply. He had neither expected his shield to be necessary inside the camp nor that it would have been much use on his back, but this little incident had him feeling thankful that he was in full gear and even more thankful for Arianna's enchanting.

"Yes," she said, without a trace of modesty.

The troll was finally pushed out from the camp he'd stumbled into, ruffled and looking darkly furious, wincing slightly from the shove. His gaze went briefly to Maurus and Arianna before he walked away with as much dignity as he could muster.

"I don't think you need the vantage point anymore," Maurus said as the troll disappeared in the crowds. "You want down?"

"I wouldn't mind if you spared me the walk," she said. Her nails played along his neck, a pleasant feeling except it seemed like she was scratching a pet.

"I'm not your mount," Maurus said mildly as he bumped his shoulder before letting go of her legs and leaning a little to the side. Despite his efforts, she slid gracefully down along him to the ground.

"I guess that is true."

"I thought you didn't find me a comfortable perch," he responded, recalling their climb in Ashenvale as they began walking.

"There is quite a difference between clinging to you over a fatal drop and being on your shoulder, here. It would have been a little different had your pauldrons been like those of the grunts' or that executioner's."

He glanced at some of the red-armored orcs around, who'd made no move to interrupt his little scuffle or the troll's following thrashing, and snorted.

"That would have been bad," he said.

"Quite an understatement," Arianna said dryly, as they made their way along a road on the edge of the camp towards their own tents.

"Reminds me of sitting down in the wrong place in Desolace. Undignified for both me and that poor kodo's bones," Maurus said, his throat rumbling with slight mirth at the memory.

Arianna gave him a look and an amused smile. "You are not the most elegant of creatures," she said, almost hiding her mirth.

"I am at a disadvantage sometimes," he agreed, "compared to you skinny folk."

Whatever she had been about to answer was drowned out by the loud, deep drone of a horn, five short bursts of sound alerting of an imminent attack. Raising his gaze from Arianna's face, he looked around for any sign of the enemy. There was a haze of red dust to the northwest, though he couldn't be sure it wasn't just the wind throwing it off one of the steep, craggy hills ahead.

"You could always lift me up to see again," Arianna said in response to his searching gaze, as they hurried toward the banner they'd been instructed to gather around when battle approached. Nervous energy, a mix quivering fear and buzzing excitement, flared up within him, intensifying when the leathery flap of wings drew his attention to the sky and the creatures there. The windriders speeding past overhead were a welcome sight, but it also drew his attention to the flock of winged beings flying towards the camp from the north, hard to see against the weird sky. They looked larger than succubi at first glance, at least many of them did and for one panicked moment, Maurus thought it was an army of dreadlords approaching them.

"Not letting you get snatched up by those. What are they?" he asked, pointing with his mace toward the demons in the sky.

"Succubi. And fiends."

"Worse or better than the blues?"

"Not quite sure. We'll see."

"I knew we wouldn't get time to get used to Outland in peace," Maurus said, gritting his teeth, his heart beating in tune with the battle drums rising around them.

"I think this  _is_  what it will be like," Arianna said, as they ran past the path leading to their tents. "Besides, I thought you hated the waiting."

Maurus snorted. He wasn't quite so sure that the uncertain waiting was so bad anymore, at least not compared to the chaos of fighting demons, and he could only imagine it would get worse from here on out. He doubted he would get used to it. Keeping an eye on the sky, he gripped his weapon and shield tighter, kept running and tried to swallow down his fear.


	6. Fire Within

Chasing Through Hell

Fire Within

The frontline had been set up a long stone's throw from the tents. The Horde soldiers stood several ranks deep, the casters spread among and behind them, and closer to the tents another line was forming, one Maurus and the others in the unit was supposed to join.

They didn't get the chance. Maurus and Mathias were still some way from the edge of the tents, Arianna just behind them, when the fiends and succubi dropped from high in the sky, spreading out to delay reinforcements and attack the defensive line from the rear. They were met with a hail of arrows and deadly streaks of light that turned some of the dives into fatal falls but the barrage and the intercepting windriders only took out a fraction of the demons.

The fiends hit the ground roaring, singly or in pairs, the dark steel blades in their hands smashing down onto their enemies with the force of the flight behind them. Screams erupted from those who chose to block instead of dodging, as the heavy blows broke shield arms and shattered shoulderplates and in the following moments of shock, many of the fiends threw out bursts of flame, forcing back their enemies and setting tents alight. The succubi fluttered down along the fiends, guarding their sides with rapid whip-cracks and swiping claws.

Except for the heedless ferocity they displayed, the demons were worlds apart. The succubi were lithe, pale shapes, the black bat wings, horns and hooves only adding something exotic to their eerie allure and somehow it looked sensual when they lashed out with whip and claw. The fiends, on the other hand, were hulking, graceless brutes, at least half-again as tall as Maurus from their black hooves to four-horned heads, the dark blue wings folding back behind them adding another arm's length to that. Their face and, disturbingly, their stomachs, seemed almost all teeth, and there were only what looked like shallow craters above their mouths, making Maurus wonder how they could see. Their muscles bulged under blue skin, though it seemed it took no effort to lift the heavy, sharp armor.

"Forward!" Maurus shouted and the soldiers around him obeyed in a rattle of metal, rushing toward the demons ahead and the group buckling beneath their assault. Payta's shoulder bumped into his right as she hefted her massive tower shield and he felt a little flush of sheepish guilt realizing that the tauren woman was the one actually in command. A rough snort was all the reprimand she gave though and all she had time for before they reached the enemies, going around the side of faltering soldiers.

A familiar incantation somehow reached Maurus' ears through the noise of battle and one of the flock of succubi around the fiends faded to ghostly translucence, falling to the ground now that her wings were unable to move the air. Without hesitation, Maurus lunged through the banished succubus and smashed his mace into the stomach of the surprised succubus hovering behind it. Armor buckled and the succubus fell to the ground, landing on her knees before Mathias' sword thrust out and through her head.

Another succubus fell to the charge before the demons recovered. A number of succubi broke off, flying around the flank of Maurus' unit, whips cracking and one of the two fiends roared and took a step back to better face both groups. A dozen wounds, from steel and magic, dotted its skin, and the armor was already marked by impacts, but it looked no less fearsome for it.

Maurus paid the flankers little attention, trusting the warriors on Mathias' side to take care of it, and stepped toward the fiend, roaring out his rising fear and anger in challenge to the massive demon. Despite the shouts and clamor of battle, the fiend heard him and the dark pits that passed for its eyes focused on him. Both of its heavy swords came crashing down towards him, the fire spreading along the tents glinting in the metal. He managed to lift his shield in time, putting both hands behind it and angling it, sending both blades clanging off the metal, but pain thrummed through his arm from the impact and he almost staggered backwards.

Flame, lightning and shadow soared over Maurus' shoulder, hitting the fiend and some of the succubi around it, drawing shrieks and growls of pain. A greenish shadow flashed across the fiend and as the fingers of darkness seeped into it, it slumped, like a heavy weight had been draped over it. When it struck out at the orcs on Payta's right, there was visible strain in the motion, like its swords were more unwieldy than before.

A half-smile appeared on Maurus' face at the sight of Arianna's curse and he pressed forward, with Payta and Mathias at his sides, ducking the claw of a diving succubus and feeling a flash of heat behind him. The fiend sent another blow at the orcs on Maurus' right, driving them back a step, even as another blow clanged off Payta's great shield. Another overhead swing was aimed at Mathias, one he dodged, though just barely. The sword bit into Mathias' shoulderplate and threw him off balance, but the fiend had overreached too much to take advantage. Maurus seized the chance, slamming his shield into the fiend's sword arm before it could withdraw it.

The sword fell from twitching fingers and the fiend growled at him, ducking to take a spear of frost on its shoulderplate instead of on its chest. It spread its fingers, sparks erupting around its hand, and Maurus hurriedly put his shield up in front of his face, but the expected wave of flame failed to appear. A sensation like a gust of wind along Maurus' leg made him glance down for a split-second, seeing Ash, mouth gaping wide, between him and Mathias, who was already recovering.

He swiftly returned his gaze to the fiend, turning his head to avoid the whip aimed at his eye. He cursed himself for the distraction as the whip scored a line of fire along his unprotected neck, just behind his horns. Around him, the succubi were being more aggressive, throwing themselves at the front rank to give the fiend time to pick up its fallen weapon. As they attacked, Maurus could also feel something warm and foggy creeping its way into his mind, a familiar sensation, though far weaker than when he last felt it.

He shook his head and grit his teeth, summoning up anger to fight off the seductive aura of the succubi.

"Get out of our heads!" Maurus roared, swinging his mace up into the chest of a succubus that came too close. In the edges of his vision he noted several of the warriors around him change posture slightly as they also threw off the succubi's aura and whether he had any hand in that or not, Maurus snorted in satisfaction.

While Payta bashed her massive shield into her opponent and Mathias ignored a claw aimed at his armpit in order to smash the edge of his shield into the throat of his enemy, Maurus threw his weight at the succubus in front of him, his shield cracking ribs and his mace breaking her arm. The succubus fell back, allowing him to bring his hoof down hard on the fiend's hand before he could reclaim his sword.

This time, he felt bone break and he saw the mess he'd made of the hand, but the demon merely howled and struck out with the broken hand, its howl only growing louder when the wild punch hit Maurus right in the nose. The wet crack reached his ears more through his skull than through the air, only a heartbeat before the numb pain erupted in his nose.

Mathias darted out to strike at the fiend, but a succubus came leaping at him, long claws aimed at his face. Distracted by the attacker, he failed to notice the fiend's left-hand blade being turned towards him and its mangled hand rising above him.

Maurus blinked through the pain in his nose and took a long step forward, turning his back completely to Mathias and bringing his shield up against the incoming sword. In that instant, he noticed Payta copying him and realized she was guarding against the sword. A grim smile tugged at the left side of Maurus mouth as he continued his turn instead of digging in his hooves, bringing his mace around with the force of both his arm and a full turn of his body. Without thinking, he aimed his weapon at the sickly looking spot spreading on the left side of the fiend's stomach and ribs and unnatural teeth broke with much more ease than should be expected of something so huge.

Despite its gurgling gasp, the demon's attacks hit with no less force. Its sword clanged loudly off Payta's shield and she grunted at the impact and its hand slammed down across Mathias' shoulder and back, driving him to the ground. Sensing weakness, two succubi leapt at him.

Fury surged up through Maurus and he swung his shield at them. They leapt nimbly back from his wild swing, mocking laughter on their lips, but Mathias got a moment to get to his feet and a bolt of flickering darkness turned the laughter of one of them into screams.

The fiend didn't miss the opening. Holding its wounded hand to its stomach, it kicked out with a wide hoof. It hit like a hammer, driving the breath from his lungs, and after the first moment of numb shock, throbbing pain spread across his lower ribs and stomach.

The kick left the demon off balance and Payta didn't hesitate to take advantage. She ducked a wild swing of the sword, one Maurus had to painfully block, and swung her hammer with swift precision, hitting just above the fiend's hoof. The leg instantly buckled, sending the weakening demon down to one knee.

Maurus saw the muscles tighten in its good leg and its wings unfolded with a rustling snap. Baring his teeth in a snarl, Maurus threw himself forward, lifting both shield and mace, heedless of the fiend's rising sword and smashed them down into its face. He could feel the breaking skull up through his arms and also the impact as Payta's hammer swept up into the hollow Maurus had beaten into the demon's chest.

The wings, tensed for flight, fell limp and the demon collapsed lifelessly. Almost immediately, the the surviving succubi took flight and the remaining fiend followed them, leaping into the air and beating shaky wings. It was bleeding and blackened by cold and fire, but it still carried both swords and it was heading straight for the chaos outside the camp. Little more than half of the group it had first attacked was still standing, the rest lay dead or dying.

Of Maurus', or Payta's unit, most had made it, though several had been picked off by the succubi. Past Arianna, who stood just behind him, mostly unscathed, Maurus could see a troll he'd spoken some words with, face down in the dirt. Two orcs, throats ripped out, lay in the middle of the road. More corpses were spread all around them, succubi savaged by blades or blackened by heat, cold or corruption.

It had only taken him a short moment to take it all in. With rage and nausea boiling in his stomach, Maurus looked over the casters and specifically caught Arianna's wild eyes.

"Clip its wings!" he snarled, turning his gaze back to the retreating fiend and hurrying forward, a chorus of incantations in his ears.

This time, the fiend was unable to dodge. An explosion of magic hit it and it fell clumsily to the ground, landing in an uneven stumble and Maurus and the other fighters reached it before it had the chance to turn, the casters close behind. Heat and light played across his shoulders and he didn't miss the burst of magic missiles soaring into the succubi above, keeping them from coming to their ally's aid.

' _Not that they looked like they would. Faithless wretches,'_ Maurus thought, bringing his weapon down on the magic-scarred fiend. Heavy blows cracked bone and Mathias' blades sank deep into the fiend's back. Several orcs came around the demon, axes biting into its arms and chest before the demon could recover. It crumbled under the assault, though not before a wild swing opened a one of the orcs' arm from hand to elbow.

With the second fiend down, they hurried towards the front line, coming out from between the tents and veering west to help where the formation was in danger of breaking in two, joining up with more soldiers headed for the battle. The demons had hit hard, but thanks to the half-formed second line, they'd thankfully been unable to fully disrupt the formation, and things were not as bad as Maurus had feared. He'd expected the panicked atmosphere of the battle by the Felfire Hills, but the defenders here were fighting back with furious determination, standing firm despite the enemies on both sides of their formation. The succubi and some fiends remained in the air, harassing the formation from above, but windriders, and bat riders to his surprise, were driving them back. Eagle-like shrieks made him look again, just before they reached the battle and a quick glance made a small bit of wonder stir in him as he saw gryphons and even a few turquoise hippogryphs slice through the air and join the deadly dance above.

He let out a battle cry as he reached the demons, in spontaneous unison with all the other charging along him. Several succubi leapt into the air to avoid the charge and a wounded fiend had already turned to face them, but Maurus saw several demons cut down by the beleaguered Horde in the confusion and Maurus half-grinned, half-snarled with satisfaction. He raised his shield as he saw the dark purple orb shooting from the fiend's hand and felt faint fingers of creeping numbness up along his arm from the remnants of dark magic passing through the shield. The numbness didn't fade before the fiend's blade slammed into his shield and Maurus silently thanked Arianna for her enchantment when he just barely managed to angle his shield enough that the blow didn't drive it into his own knee. Something in the fiend's posture indicated surprise, but its next attack came with no hesitation, sword stabbing forward and Maurus had to step close to Mathias and draw his shield close to his chest to stop the tip from piercing his stomach. Instead, the shield and arm being pressed into his chest sent another throb of pain through his bruised chest.

Mathias' sword swung out at the outstretched blue arm, but he only nicked the wrist band as the demon withdrew his arm quickly. Maurus' swing was parried, mace knocked into his shield in a sword slash that continued down into Mathias. Maurus could hear the crack as the sword hit just below Mathias' shoulderplate and Mathias hissed as he staggered to the side.

As Maurus snarled in rage, purplish black streaked over his head and the fiend howled in pain as the shadow bolt struck its chest. Crackling light bloomed to Maurus' left, and out the corner of his eye, he saw succubi fall back, arcs of lighting writhing around them, even as he pressed the attack on the fiend. It defended furiously, lashing out with the swords at its attackers, but it was weakening, gasping for air as its muscles visibly decayed underneath its skin. As Payta crushed its right arm and Mathias ducked another blow, Maurus swung his mace up into its throat.

Maurus felt a victorious rush as the demon stumbled back but when it fell the feeling vanished, erased by the cries that told him it had fallen on two trolls. He hurried forward to help, only to leap across the fallen demon to put himself between the trolls and the wolf riders charging through the gap that was appearing in the line.

It was the first time Maurus had seen fel orcs and he felt his skin crawl at the sight of the orcs' devolved kin. Their green eyes held a mad fury and their snarling mouths were almost disfigured by the jumble of long teeth growing from their gums. Their skin, where it wasn't covered by haphazard armor of leather and dark steel, was a red just a shade paler than blood, stretched taught over subtly deformed frames. Too taught, it seemed, because pale spines and ridges jutted from their skin in places.

Despite their feral appearance, they rode their wolves with the easy control of experienced riders, one hand grasping the long fur on the neck of their mounts, the other gripping a long, curved sword, smeared with fresh blood.

The wolves resembled their riders. They were frothing, feral beasts, with wide jaws of cruel teeth and eyes tinged with a rabid gleam of green. Their fur was mangy and spotted with blood and dirt, giving their black coats a red hue.

Very aware of the trolls trapped under the fallen demon behind him, Maurus set his shield to meet the charge, raising his mace.

Three fel orcs reached him in an instant, and he brought his mace down, aimed at the head of one of the wolves. The wolf weaved around the blow and before Maurus could reverse the swing, swords flashed out and he could have sworn he saw a shimmer of green along their edges. The blows came fast and heavy as a rider passed on either side of him and he sucked in a shocked breath when his shield was knocked aside. It wasn't that the fel orcs' strength was overpowering, the fiends were stronger, but they hit far harder than any orc Maurus had ever known, taking him utterly by surprise. His breath came out in a gasp when one orc swept his sword along the inside of Maurus' weapon arm, the other trailing his up the side of his left leg. His leg threatened to go out from under him, leaving him off balance and unable to get his shield up before the third rider drove his wolf into a leap and thrust his long blade forward.

Maurus turned his head, avoiding the stab that was meant to go through his head, but unable to dodge it entirely. It sank into his shoulder, just below his shoulderplate, the cold metal sending pain blazing out along its path as it was forced deeper by the wolf and rider crashing into him.

Their combined weight brought him to the ground and fresh pain burst from his shoulder and limbs, making him lose his grip on his mace. He felt the sword push through his back, and what air had been left in his lungs came out in a choking exhale.

Breathless, he got his right arm between himself and the snapping jaws of the wolf and shuddered as the orc tugged out the sword, its edge drawing a line of hot pain along his cheek along the way. His heart was hammering in a chest burdened with the weight of the wolf and its rider and he seemed unable to fill his lungs properly, the left one feeling like something was squeezing it flat.

With his head spinning from the pain and lack of air, he tried to keep an eye on both of them, not even daring to look for the other riders. The wolf's teeth snapped at him again, spraying bloody foam at his face and the orc raised his sword again.

Seething, dreadful words slashed through the air with the swift deadliness of a Barrens Viper and Maurus saw the dark magic fly over him, even as another incantation began behind him. The fel orc went rigid and screamed in agony, his sword slipping from his fingers as his muscles seemed to shrink and wither. The next blast of dark magic seeped into the orc, causing his skin to darken as if from fire, but somehow it seemed like the heat was coming from within.

The wolf paid its master little heed and Maurus struggled to keep the teeth away from his eyes and throat, but when a dark orb, almost looking like a skull from this close, hit its shoulder, it shrank back with a whimper. It was only for a moment, but it was enough and as the wolf recovered, Maurus hand closed on its head and pulled. There was a wet squelch, a faint crunch and a feeble, short yelp and then the wolf fell limp, its head pressed into the side of Maurus', his horn deep in its eye socket.

Fighting for breath, Maurus pushed the wolf off him as Ash tore past him, growling.

He looked up, or rather back, as his right hand patted its way across his chest to the pouch with his health stone. One of the trolls under the fiend was dead, her head cut in half, and Maurus inwardly cursed, though the other, covered in his dead partner's blood, was still trying to extract himself. A fel orc tumbled from his dying wolf, head caved in by Payta, as Mathias and the other fighters brought down two other riders, before the group moved, bringing Maurus within the protective ring formed around the casters. Behind them all, more Horde were fighting both demons and fel orcs in a melee that was just short of total chaos.

Arianna stepped up to Maurus, inexorably drawing his gaze and his chest hurt with a heavy thud of his heart. Her eyes were slits of piercing emerald fury and her staff was a beacon of light, yet Maurus still got the odd sensation that it was drawing in power from the air. Her free hand a blur of shadow and fire and her lips moved with frenzied speed, forming long, foreign words with grim determination.

She looked magnificent, graceful and raging, despite her skin seeming to cling even tighter to her frame and her fingers looking claw-like even as she danced them through the gestures of her spells.

"You dead yet?" Mathias shouted, as they fought to push back the fel orcs and fill the gap in the formation. One fel orc was running away, heedless of everything around him, as others were cut down, several unable to defend themselves as they writhed in agony. One was tossed from his whimpering, shuddering wolf and two burned and rotted from within.

"Still-," he began, talking to Mathias' back, but the word turned into a painful cough as whatever had seized his left lung tightened its grip. His hand found and crushed the health stone and he felt the familiar, feverish burning make its way through his body to his wounds. He groped for his mace as the wound in his shoulder fused shut, burning like he'd been pierced with red-hot iron rod, before he pushed himself up on his elbow.

Arianna glanced down at him and her eyes eased open a little. She finished a spell, sending a bolt of shadow towards the enemies and hissed quietly: "Stupid."

Maurus tried to push himself further up, but any movement of his left arm drew more waves of pain from his chest, leaving no doubt that the health stone hadn't fixed the whole problem. As he coughed in an attempt to answer Arianna's insult, she added, louder: "Valja! The cow needs healing."

A burly troll shaman with hair and armor all in crimson hues looked up from the troll she'd helped out from under the fiend. Her mouth twisted around her tusks in annoyance but she lumbered over, flanked by the limping troll, as Arianna resumed casting with fierce intensity.

"Get up?" It was half a question, half an order. With a rough grunt, Maurus pushed himself to his hooves, the effort leaving him breathing hard, his chest burning and his face twisted into a grimace.

Valja's expression grew darker, though her eyes turned a shade gentler. As the group moved along with, keeping Maurus and Valja at the center, she put a hand on his chest, her mouth moving in murmurs too soft to be heard over the battle din, and green bloomed around her hand, soothing the tight pain in his chest.

"Back to camp, your lung's flat," Valja said, so quickly that the healing glow didn't even fade before she continued the spell.

"I can still-" Maurus began.

"Make us trip over your prone form. Or fall on us," Arianna said flatly, glancing back at him. Her eyes moved from his face, to the glowing hand on his chest, to his shield arm, tense and stiff from holding the heavy shield so as to provoke as little pain as possible from his wounded chest.

"You're not a great meatshield now," she added pointedly, before turning her attention back to the battle, giving the impression that that was the final word.

Maurus ground his teeth, his gut roiling with anger unrelated to the death and destruction around him. He'd messed up again. He'd left the group behind, for a few short moments and underestimated his enemies and now he was a burden. Yet his pride and anger told him to stay and fight, to power through and make up for his mistake.

"Payta?" he asked, deciding to let the sergeant just ahead make the decision for him.

Payta grunted, stopping one of the fel orcs' charge with her shield and bringing her hammer down over the edge of it, breaking bone beneath its pauldron. Her words, said in the middle of the violent motion, came out in a yell: "Heal time?"

"Shoddy, minutes," Valja answered. Payta glanced back and Maurus followed her gaze to the confused fighting behind them. It would be risky going back through that in his condition.

"Make him useful," she commanded. "I'll open the wound for rehealing myself. Earth Mother knows he needs sense beaten into him."

Maurus scowled, partly at the words, partly at Valja's cruel grin, but he found himself grateful as she continued her work, seeming to put more effort into it now.

He still felt utterly, shamefully useless watching the fight going on around him. He tried to keep an eye out for surprises, but the Alliance and Horde above had gained the advantage over the demons, making attack from above unlikely and unless he spotted a caster before the other on the ground, any warning of attack he gave would most likely come too late. That left him watching helplessly, grinding his teeth and feeling his fear much more clearly than he usually did in battle. With every hit and wound his allies suffered, he tensed and wanted to leap out to crush the attacker and he only held himself back with the knowledge that it would render Valja's efforts useless if he went back into the fray before she finished.

' _At least the battle is going our way,'_ he thought, watching as Arianna made a sharp motion, summoning fire to rain down ahead of the group, giving them some breathing room. While breathing slowly became easier, though only somewhat less painful, the formation closed again and the wolf riders found a solid wall of muscle and steel meeting their charges and frost, fire and lighting hampering them as they approached. Behind, Maurus saw the Horde cavalry arrive, raptor and wolf riders speeding forward, followed more slowly by kodos thundering forward in time with the sound of drums which further steeled the defenders' resolve. For a moment, Maurus wondered how the flyers had mobilized faster than the cavalry.

He brought his gaze back to the frontline as the next wave fel orcs came charging at them. An odd, undulating howl rose from that direction and despite the dust in the air, he though he saw something, more like thin mist of blood, appear around the orcs. Just before the fel orcs hit the line, he realized that they looked even more rabid now, foaming bloodily at the mouth, eyes wide.

Only half-audible over the noise, someone shouted: "Frenzy!"

Then the orcs hit the line and a shudder went through it, as the frenzied orcs broke through the front rank. Payta stopped an orc cold, but the strength and speed of his attacks forced her back and several in the front rank were pushed aside by the reckless orcs. Mathias, too light to stop such a charge on his own, instead blocked the attack and stabbed his sword deep into the orc, but, heedless of the mortal blow, the orc lashed out with a blow that took off the arm of the orc on Mathias' left.

Another fel orc broke through on Payta's right. It turned and made for Arianna, who was sending her withering magic at the attackers breaking through by Mathias and Maurus charged past Valja, letting out a battle cry that hurt his lungs.

With no heed to the pain in his chest, Maurus raised both mace and shield, uncaring of how open it made him and slammed them down. The fel orc only managed to turn his head toward him before the mace crashed into his skull and his shield continued down, cracking the wolf's spine and sending it into a limp tumble.

It still crashed into Arianna though, and she yelped in surprise as she was knocked down. Maurus turned to her, chest aching, but only made one step before fire exploded twenty feet away, in the midst of a confused knot of Horde and fel orcs.

Reacting on some instinct, Maurus stepped in front of Arianna and raised his shield. It was not a moment too soon. He felt an impact as heavy as any the fiends had laid on him, sending pain thrumming down his arm and into his entire upper body, and for a moment a corona of blinding light blazed out from the shield as the metal of the shield grew hot enough to hurt.

Arianna let out a sharp command in the demonic tongue and Maurus lowered the shield, seeing another fel orc berserker too close for comfort. He was on foot, bleeding and his left arm hung limp and crippled, but he laid about himself with his long sword with incredible speed. A forsaken lay under the feet of his dead wolf and two robed casters lay behind him, clutching their bloodied bellies.

Maurus hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should drag the wolf off Arianna, before deciding to go for the orc. He lead with his shield as the orc swung his sword in a wild arc, coming within the swing and jerking the shield left, sending its still hot edge into the orcs wrist.

The sword clattered to the floor, but the orc showed no hesitation, grabbing the edge of the shield and hauling himself around it, biting at Maurus' face.

He reared back to avoid the razor-sharp tusks and the swipe of clawed fingers. Out the corner of his eye he saw a fresh burst of fire and spun to block against the flame. Instead of the impact though, he felt the same, odd sweep of wind from before and saw the fire sputter and die. Sparing a glance to his side, Maurus saw Ash, drawing small motes of green magic into his wide open mouth.

The howl of the fel orc warned Maurus in time to turn back to it and block the sword it had picked up while he was distracted. The incredibly fast blows were enough to drive him back, despite the fact that the orc had only one working arm. He was breathing hard and it felt like something was tearing away from the inside of his ribs.

Then the leg went out from under the fel orc, as Ash's sharp teeth ripped a bloody chunk from just over its heel. Before Maurus could land a blow, a line of blue-white light cracked past him and into the orc, sending it into violent convulsions.

"My patients live," Valja said grimly and Maurus gave her a thankful, if pained grin.

"Now work," she said, throwing out a hand in the direction of the front line as she hurried to the downed casters.

Maurus glanced around, breathing slightly easier at seeing both Arianna and Mathias standing, before taking a stance beside the latter, where losses had created a hole in the line. He was hoping the newly arrived cavalry could take care of any that made it through the line and that he'd been healed enough to make it through the fight because now there were certainly others who needed the healing more than he did.

"Thought that sounded like you," Mathias said, baring his teeth in greeting. Again, fire had blackened him, this time down his neck and probably through his armor, but he seemed mostly fine.

"This time, I stay here," Maurus said, more roughly than he intended, steeling himself for the next attack.

* * *

The battle didn't drag on long. With the aid of the cavalry, the frenzied orcs were brought down. The battle din faded, leaving behind only the screams of the wounded and dying and the crackle of those flames in camp which had not been put out. In the distance, a new cloud of red dust was rising, but those making it were leaving, not approaching. The last wave had been a distraction, to allow most of the riders a head start from pursuit. The surviving demons had vanished too, into the alien sky, though the Horde and Alliance flyers had brought many down as they fled.

"Cowards," Maurus snarled, the vibration in his chest sending little stabs through his lung. He looked at a dead fel orc and saw how his eyes had filled with blood, his face spattered with bloody froth. Some of his muscles were distorted, like they had torn beneath the skin, without any blade touching them. The frenzy did more than the spell of blood lust some shamans knew. There was a foul smell about the corpse, like sickly, burned blood, a smell that stood out, even among the stench of the battlefield. "Callous, faithless, vile-"

"Since you're still upright, go help Valja with the wounded," Paya said, cutting him off. Maurus looked up from the broken orc, swallowed and nodded.

Valja was still sitting by one of the casters, brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on the oozing wound on the troll's stomach. The other caster looked pale, but only a hideous scar remained where there had been a mortal wound before. Beside the three, Mathias was ripping off the armor of a warrior with one hand while the other was pressed down on the warrior's back to staunch the steady flow of blood.

"What do you need?" he asked. Valja tossed her head at the pack beside her.

"Look around. Wrap anyone that it might save. Don't fall over."

Maurus snorted. He wasn't a stranger to injury, but he wasn't exactly a healer either, not even the mundane kind. He grabbed some bandages though and he didn't have to walk far before he found a wounded orc. All around him, people hurried wounded toward the tents or sat and tried to help those they found, like him.

"How is your chest?" Arianna asked, walking up to him as he pressed down on the stomach wound and inspected the gash in the orc's head. He whimpered, but didn't seem to really notice his surroundings and Maurus wondered for a moment whether he was wasting his time.

"I'm still breathing," he answered lowly.  _'Though it's unpleasant,'_ he added silently, looking her up and down. Unlike himself and Mathias, she had escaped the battle with nothing worse than the abrasions from when the wolf downed her, though her robes were more tattered than before, shoving skin rubbed raw through the rips and tears. Her lack of injuries made his body feel just slightly lighter. At least his recklessness hadn't gotten her hurt. "Are you fine?"

"I have another health stone," she said, ignoring his question. Judging from her tone, she might as well have been commenting on the weather, but Maurus recognized the offer for what it was. Apparently, his breathing betrayed his discomfort.

"Best give it to someone who needs it," he said, deciding the head wound wasn't too bad and moving to the orc's bleeding belly. It hurt slightly to speak and he had no doubt the health stone would help, but he had no urgent need for healing.

"I don't think I truly understood the term bullheaded before I met you," she said, irritation entering her voice.

Maurus applied the bandage and drew it tight.

"I'm still right. I'm not dying," he said, giving his work another look before hauling the unresponsive orc to his feet with a harsh grunt. A thought occurred to him as he looked for the white pennants flying over the healers' tents. "Could you make more? You seemed to wield a lot more power before."

"I'm afraid not," she said, as they began moving toward the healer's tents. There was already a growing crowd gathering around them, carrying or supporting wounded or hobbling on their own.

"Really?" Maurus asked, running his gaze over the ground as he walked, searching for movement.

"That was more power, more quickly than I'm used to," she said and Maurus glanced at her when he noticed the exhaustion in her tone. Now that he looked for it, her posture matched her tone and though she still walked with her graceful steps, they were not as effortless as usual.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "It  _was_ very impressive, but you shouldn't overdo it. I can only imagine the burnout is worse with your magic."

He didn't miss the quick tension that went through her at the last few words, but the genuine concern in his voice appeared to mollify her. She gave a tired little smirk.

"Considering my company, I think I am entitled to a little recklessness." She gave him an intense look that reminded him of the shining fury he'd seen during the battle, stirring something in him. Her tone was dark when she added: "They needed to die."

Maurus breathed in, feeling another warm stab in his chest, and reached out to brush his hand along her arm. He smiled. "Thank you."

She turned her gaze away from him, green eyes softening as she scanned the field for wounded who were still unattended. "It was nothing you wouldn't have done. You did the same for the troll."

"Still, I'm always grateful," Maurus said, not sure he'd displayed quite the same intensity and certainly not the same success as Arianna had. She shrugged nonchalantly, but Maurus thought she looked slightly embarrassed.

His eyes fell on a dead fiend, blackened and hacked bloody.

"If only that was Ven'Zarul," he said, noting the similarity in size and general shape, "we'd have been finished."

"If only," Arianna agreed as they reached the crowd in front of the healers'. She produced the piece of horn, shielding it slightly from view and murmured her tracking spell.

' _It's almost a habit now, checking whenever there is a free moment,_  Maurus thought.  _'Almost wasteful.'_

His words were proven wrong a dozen heartbeats later. Arianna's eyes snapped open, her face creasing into a frown and she crouched, murmuring to Ash and presenting the horn to him.

Maurus looked at them in surprise.

Ash sniffed, growled and gave one of his odd barks, turning in a circle before facing south, like a hunting dog that had found a trail. Maurus stared.

"He's to the south now," Arianna said soberly. Maurus couldn't quite read her expression, but he thought he saw both worry and excitement. He glanced around.

"You, take him," he barked at a forsaken on his right, and pushed the unsteady orc at him without waiting for an answer. He hardly noticed the forsaken stagger momentarily before getting a good grip on the wounded.

"Mathias!" Maurus bellowed, ignoring the pain and the sensation of too little air in his lungs. "Come here. We got work to do!"


	7. Bitter Encounters

Chasing Through Hell

Bitter Encounters

Maurus panted, his open mouth tasting faintly of copper and his flaring nostrils itching with the smell of smoke. Each rise of his chest tugged painfully on his left lung and his muscles ached. Again, he cursed his recklessness and the fel orc who'd taken advantage of it with equal vehemence. He shouldn't even be breathing hard from this much. Arianna and Mathias certainly weren't. Though if Maurus was perfectly honest, they did have an easier time navigating the crowds than he did with his bulk.

Ash was ahead, nimbly avoiding the others on the road, his head twitching like he was constantly noticing new scents. It was a good thing he was so fast and agile, because he garnered plenty of glowers and hissed curses as he passed and more than once, someone drew weapons before Arianna claimed ownership.

"Are you sure he'll lead us to him?" Mathias asked, his voice low, steady and severe. Maurus felt a flash of irritation. When he'd called, Mathias had joined them without a word, almost taking off without them, but now, half-way through camp, he was doubting the felhound's tracking? Arianna seemed to be of the same opinion.

"I thought you'd learned by now," she snapped, rolling her eyes.

"I've learned to trust  _your_ magic," Mathias said, ducking around pair of orcs going the opposite direction. His gaze never left Ash. "He's a demon."

Arianna sniffed derisively. Maurus opened his mouth to give Mathias an annoyed retort, though breathlessness and a measure of agreement kept him from speaking.

"And if he tracks like a bloodhound, we could go all over the camp before finding the demon."

Maurus grunted and turned his head slightly, to Arianna. "He's got a point. I'd be glad if we didn't run more than we have to."

His chest and the stabbing in his side heartily agreed.

"We can also stop every hundred yards so I can track properly," Arianna said, a little testily. "I can't do it on the move, I'll run into something."

As if to prove her right, a group of orcs and trolls came running towards them, filling almost the entire path and they all had to stick close to the tents on the right to avoid a collision.

"Well, that's easy then," Maurus said as they began moving again. For the second time that day, he grabbed and lifted Arianna off her feet. She tensed and kicked out for the short moment it took her to realize what was happening. She snorted out a breath as he put her on his right shoulder, clamping an arm securely around her legs.

"No need to worry about sudden impact now, right?" he huffed. Thankfully, it didn't feel like her added weight would make the run much worse.

"It gets steadily harder to believe that you aren't a beast of burden, with how naturally you take to being ridden," Arianna said dryly, resting one hand easily on Maurus' neck. He snorted in amusement and regretted it as it pulled at the inside of his chest.

Mathias turned his head for the barest instant, only enough to get a quick glimpse of them.

"Less banter, more tracking," he snapped. Maurus thought he heard the barest whisper of amusement in his voice though.

Though Maurus was certain Arianna was glaring at the forsaken, her murmur and the tangible heat in her limbs told him that she did as he asked. For a while, it seemed Mathias' worry had been unfounded though. Despite her periodic tracking spells, Arianna let Ash keep leading them, seemingly agreeing with his nose.

But as they entered the shadow of the Portal, Arianna tensed and two intersections later, she directed them to the left. Maurus didn't miss the hint of smugness that crept into Mathias' eager grin or the confused tilt to Ash's head as they abandoned the trail he'd been on.

Further into the shadow of the Portal, Maurus noticed differences in the air. A whine and grinding of machinery stood out from the usual noise of the camp and as he recognized those sounds, he became aware of another familiar scent: Smoke, oily and dirty, unpleasant in an entirely different way than the usual scents of Outland.

' _Of course they're here too,'_ he thought as he approached the cluster of very distinct, dark tents ahead. They clung low to the ground, but what they lacked in height they made up for in width, even the smallest of them covering as much ground as some of the larger orc tents. They were made from an odd, matte material that he didn't recognize, though as he got closer, he noticed that at least some of them weren't naturally black but rather discolored by soot and oil. What looked like scrap metal littered the ground around and between the tents, like this was where all blacksmithing projects came to die, though the large, mechanical frames towering over the tents were testament to the fact that not everything there was useless junk, as were the worrying piles of innocent looking red sticks and black spheres.

There was a noticeable bit of open ground around the group of tents and the odd crater showed how prudent it was for the rest of the camp to keep their distance.

As they approached, thirteen goblin bruisers gathered, blocking their path and staring at them with suspicion in their beady little eyes. They were each four feet of green, mean greed, hidden under heavy metal and leather and the way they lifted their three-foot clubs showed that their intent was to hurt, not to intimidate.

"Business?" one of them called, high-pitched and challenging. Beside him, two of them made what Maurus could only think of as practice swings, one low, the other at the exact height of Maurus' knees. Behind them, Maurus saw two more goblins who trained long rifles on Arianna as she barked an order at Ash. The felhound came to a skidding halt just a few feet from the goblins, only then noticing them as he lifted his head from the trail he'd evidently picked up again.

"You're in the way," Mathias hissed, in a tone that sliced through the noise of the goblin camp, stopping in front of the goblins. As Maurus walked up behind him, his lung and legs thanking him for the respite, Arianna added: "There's a demon in your camp."

The goblin who'd first spoken leaned backward to look at up Arianna, before shifting his gaze to Ash as the demon sniffed curiously at the air.

"Not yet and it'll be all over our camp if he tries to get in," the goblin answered, patting his club.

"Not that," Mathias said, gesturing sharply to Ash. He pointed into the camp. "In there."

"Eh, I think we'd have noticed that," the goblin answered skeptically. Mathias took another step forward and the goblins bristled.

"Sure, come closer, dead guy," the goblin said, showing teeth as a bit of eagerness crept into his voice.

"We're here to help," Arianna said, her voice smooth except for a timbre of irritation and urgency that Maurus wasn't sure the goblins would notice. "There is someone very dangerous in your camp."

"You could be dangerous to us. You could see or take something you shouldn't," the goblin replied.

Mathias' fingers were twitching, though he was neither drawing his sword nor lashing out, however much he looked like he wanted to. Maurus himself bristled at the suggestion he might be a thief and felt a muscle tighten in his jaw at the delay. He relaxed as he got an idea.

"You could escort us," he said, tapping the small pouch at his belt, making the coins within jingle. It was only a fraction of his money, most back at the camp, but it was still quite a few pieces of silver. He was really hoping Wiven was as trustworthy as he'd seemed or that he at least couldn't find the rest of the money if he wasn't. "If we're wrong, we've wasted our time and you're richer. If we're right, we could use the help."

The goblin made a thoughtful sound. Then shrugged, held out a hand and sounded much more pleasant when he said: "Sure then. But keep the demon under control."

Maurus dropped the coin pouch in the goblin's hand and the goblins parted as he tucked it away. Ash sprang forward at a word from Arianna.

"Finally," Mathias muttered as he and Maurus followed, along with about half the goblins. They ran between the odd tents, the harsh, grating sound of goblin artifice paining Maurus' ears. Several goblins locked warily at Ash as he passed and he spotted at least two who hurriedly drew back from piles of black powder or more sticks of explosives. Others looked simply curious, lifting goggles or full, metal masks to see them better and the odd non-goblin seemed more surprised at their haste than by their presence.

"What's she doing there?" the leading bruiser asked Maurus, looking up at Arianna. They rounded a corner, turning south through the goblin area as he added: "She a cripple?"

Maurus didn't need to look to see the affronted look on Arianna's face and the flash of heat against his arm told him she was doing magic again, even though he couldn't hear her murmur over the noise. He snorted.

"Not in any meaningful way," he said wryly and received a sharp tug on his hair, which he almost welcomed, seeing as it seemed to dim the rest of his pains for a short moment. "She's tracking. Running ruins her focus."

The goblin sent a meaningful look towards Ash as the demon leapt over a low display of boots that had all manner of odds and ends bolted to them, drawing a curse from the owner. "I thought that was its job."

"Better safe than sorry," he said, voice harder than before, noting absently that Arianna was still in agreement with Ash. He was surprised when the goblin turned his head to him, a hint of confusion in his eyes. Then he recalled who he was speaking to. The only situations that expression could apply to goblins were in relation to their wealth or if something absolutely had to explode. He waved a hand at the goblin and he shrugged in response. He probably decided it was just another meaningless figure of speech.

Ash finally turned to a tent, a little over a hundred yards from open space around the goblin camp. Unlike most of the tents, there was nothing even resembling a stand beside it, not even a table on which to exhibit wares. And the tent was silent. From all other sides, waves of sound assaulted Maurus' ears, but the only sounds coming from the direction of the tent were the sounds coming from behind it.

Maurus had moved to the front during the last leg of the run, eager to have battle rage chase away his fatigue and pain and he was the first to reach the tent flap after Ash. He'd had never been very stealthy, and he'd learned that when being silent was out of the question, being loud and sudden was the next best thing. So he drew his mace and shield while Arianna slipped down from his shoulder and as her feet touched the ground, he pushed aside the black, smooth cloth of the tent and lunged inside. It was only as he did so that he realized that entering a goblin tent, of all things, with intent to surprise, was verging on suicidal.

Luckily, nothing exploded. It should have been lighter though. Whatever you said about goblins, much of their work was very intricate and it was impossible to create such things without proper light. In spite of that, there were only a handful of lanterns inside, providing weak illumination. Shadows clung stubbornly to the edges of the tent and wrapped around tables and benches, strewn with tools and torn schematics. At the center of the room was a huge blocky shape, a jumbled patchwork of tanks and pipes, metallic grey except for where the darkness pooled in its crevices and openings.

He noticed the thick smell of wet blood the instant after all that entered his mind and it made him se the lumps dotting the ground around the machine for what they were: At least a dozen goblins, their blood pooling on the floor. A few more lay around the edge of the tent, bruisers by the looks of it, the closest three mere feet from him, their throats cut so deep they had almost lost their heads. He felt an abrupt rolling nausea and his eyes stung for reasons entirely unrelated to the dust and smoke in the camp. Dead goblins, again.

' _No. This is time is not your fault,'_ he told himself as he stepped further into the room. Arianna and Mathias came in after him, followed by the goblins, who cursed at the sight, some with anger, some with such grief that their squeaky voices broke.

Ash was at the center of the room, slowly stepping in a wide circle around the odd machine, growling furiously but he froze when the object of his attention stepped into view, half-way between the machine and the opposite tent wall.

It was a tall, robust man, clad in brown, worn leathers and a hooded, ragged cloak. His hood hid most of his face and the strip of cloth around his mouth and throat concealed even more, so only a small area around his eyes were visible. He stood slightly hunched, but like he was unused to it and he could have been mistaken for forsaken, thanks to the heavily discolored skin around his green eyes. But the eyes had none of the unnatural light of the undead and the discoloration looked more like bruises than rot. So, with how intently Maurus was studying the man, it was impossible to mistake him for the dead, not least because he could see him breathe. Lastly, Maurus noted his weapons, two short swords. They were sheathed at his hips and he looked untouched by the carnage, but Maurus had no doubt he'd caused it. He was too at ease to be a bystander, even if he had been Horde.

"Ah, witnesses," he sighed. He sounded neither worried nor sincere, but more like he was making a careless observation. Maurus' eyes widened and his heart began beating even faster than it already did. Despite the warmth in the tent, he felt cold creep up his spine. The voice was different, but the inflection and smooth confidence was unmistakable and had it been a little deeper, it would have matched the voice that mocked him in his sleep.

"Break. Him," the goblin leader snarled and the bruisers began closing on the man, who in turn began walking backwards, though without apparent concern. Arianna spoke a demonic word, an order to Ash and the felhound took a cautious step forward.

"Him?" Mathias asked. His voice was as quiet and ominous as the moment before the axe falls and he looked ready to explode into violence. Maurus nodded.

"We need-" he began, as Mathias started forward, but the disguised dreadlord cut him off, banishing any lingering doubts about his identity by letting out a string of guttural words. Maurus realized with a start that, while Arianna's spoke Eredun like he spoke Orcish, the dreadlord spoke it like he spoke Taurahe. The first few words halted Ash in his tracks and as goblins raised their clubs and charged, the dreadlord seamlessly shifted into a different incantation, ending it as he swept out his arm in a half-circle.

A wave of faint green mist rolled forward and from one moment to the next, thousands of large, black insects coalesced from the mist, filling the air with a hellish buzz. The goblins shrieked as the flies swarmed over them, biting and stinging skin and eyes and creeping into mouths, ears and nostrils.

Maurus raised his shield but the flies simply flowed around it, covering his face and neck in a writhing mass of black bodies and a rash of sharp pinpricks spread over him. Mercifully, he managed to clamp his mouth shut, catching a single of the disgusting bugs between his teeth, but he couldn't spit its rancid-tasting remains out without the risk of even more getting in.

He was sickened when he felt the tickling of desperately scrabbling legs and wings as flies pushed themselves into his nostrils. He snorted explosively, dislodging some of the flies, but more immediately took their place.

Half-blinded by the flies and the rapid blinking he did to keep them out of his eyes, he saw the others. The goblins had dropped their weapons in order to use both hands to wipe off the flies, coughing, gagging and spitting furiously all the while. Two were rolling on the floor while swiping at themselves, apparently seeking to crush the bugs that way. Arianna's was coughing and sputtering, swatting at her face with hands that flickered with flame that she seemed unable to get proper hold of thanks to the flies. Maurus couldn't blame her. More than half her skin was covered by the loathsome little things and her robes rolled with the movements of the flies.

Mathias was covered with the flies. He was blinking as often as Maurus and wiped his underarm over his face almost continuously, but his gaze was still fixed on Ven'Zarul.

Through a haze of flies and tears, Maurus saw Ven'Zarul lift his other hand. In it was something red and familiar. As his eyes crinkled, like he was smiling, he passed his other hand over the explosive and Maurus could have sworn he heard the hiss as the fuse caught fire, even if that was impossible with all the noise. His eyes darted to the machine in the center of the room and noted the tell-tale red of more explosives at its base and his blood froze.

He shoved his mace into his belt and breathed deeply through his nose, pushing away the disgust he felt as his nostrils filled with flies. Against his better judgement, he took a step forward, even as Ven'Zarul lobbed the lit explosive at the machine and turned to another opening on that end of the tent.

"Get out!" Maurus bellowed, his shield arm closing around Arianna, pressing her to his chest and clamping his free hand down on Mathias' shoulder. He turned and ran, dragging the two along, while the goblins scrambled to follow.

He leaped outside and he could feel the flies vanishing as he threw himself down onto his side, turning his back to the tent. A shock of pain went through his chest as he hit the ground and he let out a sharp grunt. He felt weight on him as some of the goblins jumped over him and then the explosion came. It was a sharp, short crack that hurt his ears, though that was forgotten when he felt two blows against his back, easily as heavy as the fiends' attacks.

He groaned as he rolled over, feeling something hard poking into his back and looked at the result of the explosion. The tent had collapsed, the supports blown out from it and fire was slowly getting a hold of it, though the dark fabric seemed to melt rather than burn. There were rents in the fabric and as his eyes darted around, he noticed that holes had been torn in the surrounding tents too and over the ringing in his ears and the noise, he thought he heard wails of pain.

Between Maurus and the ruined tent lay three bruisers, one of them just beside the tent, half of his face missing. As Maurus got to his hooves, rising from the twisted bits of metal that had hit him, one of the other two stumbled to his feet. The other goblin stayed down, whimpering as blood spread beneath her.

On the other side of the tent from Maurus, Ven'Zarul took off down the path, his head bowed and his back bent. Breathing deep of blood, fire and corrupted air, Maurus summoned up rage, feeling it rush through his body, giving him strength and driving back the aches.

"After him," he barked, setting off after the dreadlord. The words seemed unnecessary, because both his two friends and most of the goblins were moving almost before he finished talking. Only one goblin stayed behind, shouting for healers.

Ven'Zarul was running due south, meeting little resistance from those on the path despite the shouts of the bruisers. Most people hardly reacted, turning to gawk at the most, while some even leapt out of the way rather than making themselves useful as a roadblock and Maurus silently cursed their apathy and cowardice, unable to get a word out between his heaving breaths.

Sadly, the few that seemed willing to intervene were no more use. The dreadlord ducked past those that tried to grab him and delivered a sharp, hard punch to the side of the head of a tauren druid that tried to summon up magic to help. The sight of the edge of the goblin tents brought a small bit of hope to Maurus' chest, but it was dashed just as quickly. Ven'Zarul waved a hand and an unearthly moan sounded, before the five bruisers forming up to block the way collapsed in a heap, which was easily sidestepped.

As Maurus, Arianna and Mathias sprinted across the open stretch of ground, Maurus noted with a flutter of worry that they were rapidly outpacing the goblins, judging by their fading shouts, though if they could just delay the dreadlord, the goblins could catch up, if the other Horde weren't enough help.

Catching him seemed less and less likely though. The thin strip of Horde tents that lay between the goblin camp and the Path of Glory didn't prove more of an obstacle for Ven'Zarul than the goblin camp. It was almost deserted and the orcs and tauren that were there weren't much help. Maurus had no breath to shout for the people to block Ven'Zarul's escape and Arianna's and Mathias shouts seemed to confuse those that heard it more than it jolted them into action. It dawned on Maurus though, as he sidestepped a pair of orcs, that the people around them likely thought it was a conflict between forsaken and blood elves, the most recent and least trusted members of the Horde. As such, they either didn't bother to listen or failed to quite grasp the shouts before it was too late.

The thought didn't make their hesitation any less infuriating.

The Path of Glory came into sight. On the closest side was a loose line of grunts, grim faced warriors in red armor. Most of them were turned toward the Horde camp as their main assignment was to keep the Horde and Alliance separated, to ensure the fragile truce wasn't threatened by hotheads. On the other side of the Path stood a line of Alliance footmen in gleaming, silver armor, mostly dwarves and humans, turned toward the Alliance camp for much the same reason.

"Seize the human!" Arianna called and four of the guards moved to block Ven'Zarul's escape. Maurus would have cheered if he'd had the breath for it, if his lungs had burned less and if he hadn't just seen Ven'Zarul put those goblins to sleep with hardly a word.

The grunts didn't collapse however. Instead of bringing forth more magic, Ven'Zarul drew and clumsily threw his two swords at the grunts gathering in front of him. Before the blades even hit them, both clanging off armor, he was yanking at his clothes, pulling off the ragged cloak and exposing more bruised and split skin along his neck, even as straightened his back.

"Help me! They've kept me captured for weeks!" The voice was desperate and hoarse, cracking with relief and pain, yet still loud enough that Maurus heard it easily. The words weren't meant for his ears though. The footmen had turned and Maurus knew what they were seeing. One of their own, however much a rogue he might be, surrounded by enemies and, if Maurus wasn't wrong, looking like he'd been beaten to within an inch of his life.

The thrown swords, the shout and the bared face made the grunts hesitate for an instant and it was more than enough. Maurus wanted to scream as Ven'Zarul dodged one orc's swing and another's grab, swirling his cloak like the flimsiest shield Maurus had ever seen before throwing it over the head of a tauren and neatly evading him as well. More grunts were hurrying over, but Ven'Zarul was already crossing the Path, hurrying toward the approaching footmen.

The grunts recovered quickly, the tauren one throwing off the cloak with a snarl and spinning to follow Ven'Zarul, along with half of the little group. The rest faced Maurus as he came barreling toward them.

"Halt!" one of them barked.

"Move," Maurus growled, feeling a ripping sensation in his chest as he forced out the word. The grunt's eyes widened as Maurus shoved her aside and went around them.

Ven'Zarul darted around the footmen as they closed ranks and locked their shields. Beneath their helmets their eyes glinted with steely determination as they watched Maurus' approach. Distantly, he heard a dull thud of impact behind him.

"Give me the demon!" he roared, the words coming out so guttural they were almost unintelligible even to those who spoke Orc. He tried to go around the footmen, but they moved to block him, only seeming more determined to stop him and Maurus raised his shield in preparation for the impact.

The footmen took a step in unison so they stood at an angle to Maurus and pushed forward, hitting Maurus half a step before he expected it. The shields hit low and hard, and he bounced off, legs going out from under him. For a moment, he was numb where the shields had slammed into him, but throbbing pain began spreading through his arm and belly just before he crashed into the red dirt.

Next thing he knew, he was being pulled up by strong hands and dragged back toward the Horde camp. Grunts hurriedly stepped between him and the footmen, who made no move but fairly bristled with tension.

Arianna and two of the grunt sergeants were talking hurriedly with the footmen captains, presumably in Human, because it sounded like gibberish to Maurus. Despite not understanding a word of it though, he could hear the hostility in the footmen's voices and detect the airy, condescending tone Arianna used when she was annoyed. The footmen weren't very receptive to what they were being told, if their folded arms and the glares were anything to go by.

Two grunts were just letting go of Mathias and judging by the dust covering all three, the sound Maurus had heard before his own fall had been Mathias getting tackled. Stained with his own dark blood, he looked murderous, like he was only barely restraining himself from simply hacking his way to Ven'Zarul.

"Let go of me," Maurus said gruffly, struggling against the tauren dragging him. "He's getting away."

As the tauren tightened his grip on him instead, he spotted Ven'Zarul through a gap in the lines of footmen and grunts. He was getting further into the camp, supported by a night elf clad in bear furs. Seeing the dreadlord slipping away, getting help even, while Maurus was restrained himself, made his pains and exhaustion flare into fresh rage. His blood thundered in his ears and images of bodies broken by stone, claws and magic flashed across his mind's eye. He was sure he tasted bile as he opened his mouth and roared with such force that it felt like blunt claws raked his throat: "You can't hide Zarul! We'll find you and tear you limb from limb!"

A dozen swords were half-drawn and the grunts raised their axes before the shouts of the captains and sergeants stopped them in their tracks.

"Shut your stupid mouth," Maurus' captor said harshly, giving him a hard shake. "We can't afford this fight."

As his rage began to fade, he saw the truth of the statement and realized how it must have looked to the Alliance. How Ven'Zarul had meant it to look. He stopped struggling and slumped in the other tauren's grip and the tauren snorted, either in disgust or satisfaction. He was dragged five steps more before he was thrown off the Path of Glory, landing in a heap.

He slowly pushed himself up again, leaving his shield on the ground. It was as if he left the final sparks of his battle rage with the shield and without it, all of his pain and exhaustion rushed back in. His limbs throbbed, his chest burned and his stomach rolled with nausea but refused to just lie there, so instead he stood and looked at the line of grunts and footmen, hoping he would only have to bear the shame of  _almost_ causing bloodshed.

It seemed that would be the case. The soldiers of both sides had put away their weapons, though some still looked moments away from violence and the tension was dissipating, as the Horde and Alliance officers spoke hurriedly and urgently, half to each other, half to their men. Arianna was adding her voice to the mix, taking a more diplomatic tone this time, though from the glances she got, she might be doing more harm than good.

Mathias was a different story, looking everything but calm as he stalked toward Maurus, righting his back and for once rising to his full and surprising height. His face was dark with cold rage, his pale lips barely closed over clenched teeth and his eyes were narrowed into slits. The holes the flies had torn in his face, oozing dark blood, only added to the fearsome impression and even though his sword remained in its sheath, his slowly opening and closing hands looked plenty dangerous, reminding Maurus of the claws of a gargoyle.

When he reached Maurus, Mathias' hands shot up, closing around Maurus' horns. Maurus grunted at the painful tug on his horns as Mathias wrenched his head down in order to glare into his eyes without having to look up.

"Is there  _nothing_  between these?" Mathias hissed, pulling at the horns as he did. "What could that threat  _possibly_  gain us?"

Maurus felt like a stone had settled in his stomach. He hadn't thought about what his threat had revealed.

Mathias shook Maurus' head by the horns again, the motion tugging at the skin and bone around his horns and making his head spin with slight dizziness.

"I should rip out your tongue before you let anything more slip!" Mathias hissed with a breath that smelled of rotten meat, his face only inches from Maurus' muzzle. The fingers of his right hand slipped from Maurus' horn and dug into the side of his face.

Despite his guilt, Maurus felt fire flare in his veins again and his eyes narrowed as he raised his arms. His hands closed around Mathias' wrists, tightening till it almost felt like he'd pushed the muscle away from bone.

"I see my mistake," he said gravely. "I'm sorry. My anger often gets the best of me."

He pulled Mathias' hands away from his head, reddish-brown eyes boring into milky ones. Again, he noticed the lazily bleeding wounds on Mathias' face.

"But this doesn't gain you anything either. I think you should find a priest or someone to restore you. Before I give you need for one."

He pushed Mathias backward. For a moment he thought Mathias might leap at him, but with one more angry glare, he stomped past him.

Maurus sighed heavily, the guilt rushing back as he let go of the weak anger Mathias had kindled. In truth, Mathias was well within his rights to give him a few good punches, but he was far too tired, hurt too much and he was already berating himself. And the threat had been over the line.

"He's right."

Maurus sighed at Arianna's words. Her voice was airy and blasé, but he though he heard annoyance in there, just beneath the surface.

He turned to her and his eyes widened. Her face and neck was smeared with blood and he could see spots of darker red all over her robes. Strands of her hair clung to her face or hung free, but stuck together by the drying blood. His weight in his stomach seemed to become heavier.

"Are you alright?" he asked breathlessly, taking a step toward her and reaching out to her. She didn't look pained, only frightfully gory, but he doubted she would let pain show.

The corners of her mouth quirked upward briefly, momentarily turning the thin displeased line of her mouth into a slight, reluctant smile.

"I still had the health stone. I'm fine underneath."

Maurus looked her up and down. Her robes were dirty, tattered and clung to her because of blood and sweat, outlining her thin frame and he found his eyes lingering on her too thin waist and her chest. She was leaning on her staff, but she didn't seem to need to and he couldn't see any wounds under the blood.

"Of course you are," he said tiredly, feeling just a little of the weight in his gut lift. More of the weight vanished as he saw the grunts return to their positions along the path, a few glaring at him, just like most of the footmen did.

"I guess you aren't," Arianna said. As her eyes roamed over his face and neck, he noticed both the sticky feeling of his own blood and the stinging of the wounds there. "You should find a healer. I'll stay and wait for the goblins, maybe they can convince the Alliance. Maybe we can salvage your mess."

Maurus winced at the acid in the last few words and lowered his gaze.

"I can wait."

"Just go," she said flatly and it felt like a punch to the gut. Underneath her calm, he realized, she was angry with him too.

' _The healers are too busy for those that aren't dying,_  he thought. ' _The camp still isn't friendly to warlocks, even without their pets.'_

But he didn't argue. He just bent down and picked up his shield as Arianna left without another word. Raising his head, his gaze fell on the ground next to the tauren that had dragged him back on the Horde side. Ignoring the glare of the tauren, Maurus stepped closer, crouched and picked up the abused rag of a cloak that lay there, discarded and forgotten. Then he turned, just as the goblins came running.

"Don't go too far," the tauren grunt said grimly. Maurus' eyes narrowed, but he kept himself from responding.

He hesitated for a moment, before he had a though. The grunt could hardly complain as long as he could see him and there were probably druids or shamans among the ones guarding the Path of Glory. The sentries might not like him, but maybe it was possible he could get proper healing in reasonable time. He slung the ragged, stinking cloak over one shoulder and looked around for someone spiritually gifted.


	8. Fixing Moods

Chasing Through Hell

Fixing Moods

"You look like you ran afoul of a starving lynx," Wiven greeted. His hands hovered over the top of an open barrel, glowing with pale blue light. Water continuously coalesced in the air beneath his palms, forming into thumb sized spheres before falling into the barrel.

Maurus gave him a flat look and glanced around the campsite. About half of Payta's unit was there, most clustered around small cooking fires or sitting just outside their tents. Quite a few of them were examining armor or weapons that looked considerably worse for wear, though just as many seemed to relax with drink, food or a spot of gambling. A sharp, spicy aroma, reminding Maurus of scorpion, rose from the four-limbed, spiky, chitin-covered thing hanging over the flames of the nearest fire, though the pleasant smell was almost drowned out by the stink of charred hide from the burned down tents further north and the pyres in the distance.

It was a small mercy that their tents were so far from where the fires had begun.

"Unless it isn't yours?" Wiven asked hopefully as Maurus dropped down beside him and laid the tattered cloak he carried onto his right knee.

"It is," answered bluntly, leaning back to put down his shield inside his tent before tugging his backpack out with his now free hand. He began rummaging through it.

Wiven made a thoughtful sound and glanced at the two nearby orcs, who were both stitching up ugly, though pretty harmless wounds. "Lucky. It didn't sound like the fel orcs or demons even _could_ cut so shallowly."

"Face-full of bugs," Maurus grumled, pulling a clean rag from his pack. Wiven raised a slender eyebrow in the exact same way Arianna did sometimes. "Magic," he added simply. "A little water?"

Wiven grabbed one of the rough clay cups on the ground and dipped it deeply in the barrel before passing it to Maurus.

He wet the cloth and ran it over his face, sighing. In the hot air, the lukewarm water felt cool and refreshing and the feeling of the crusted blood dissolving and running off his fur was almost as much a relief as when the insect bites had been healed.

"Did you get lost?"

Maurus paused with the cloth still in the now crimson water of the cup. He tilted his head in question.

"The others came back more than an hour ago," Wiven elaborated, nodding at the other people in the camp. "You three didn't. What kept you?"

Maurus didn't answer. He'd been far too openmouthed already and the thought made him feel even more tired than he already was.

It had taken less effort to find a healer among the grunts than to get the orc to help. Even with the promise of silver, it had been a grudging healing, though the orc had put more effort into it after he found Maurus' chest injury, which hadn't taken all the action well. That discovery had also stopped his mutterings about Maurus deserving a whipping for threatening the truce.

At least the goblins had backed up Maurus' and Arianna's story, at least as far as what had occurred in the exploding tent. That had turned most of the grunts' glares toward the Alliance camp and with that implicit permission, Arianna had left without a word.

Why they hadn't stopped Mathias when he'd stormed off, Maurus didn't know, though maybe he'd seemed too much of a hassle when they'd still had two of three troublemakers.

Maurus had been stuck with the surly shaman, watching a few of the goblins angrily demand justice of grunts that looked torn between annoyance and growing agreement with their fury.

There had been no sigh of Ven'Zarul and he'd had to accept that he was most likely lost to them for now, a thought that still made him grind his teeth.

The slow healing had given him time to think and that had probably helped when he'd sought out the sergeant's superior and along with a goblin named Crangle, managed to convince him to give him a letter backing his story. His tour of the animal pens would have been a failure without it, considering he was a nobody wanderer.

He looked at the bloody rag in his hand and realized with a glimmer of amusement why some of those he'd passed had looked at him so oddly. He sighed.

"We visited the goblins. Found some healers."

"At the goblins'?" Wiven said skeptically. "Not many healers there I suspect."

Maurus turned to Wiven and rolled his eyes. "The three things, in that order."

Wiven's expression turned sly. "Know anything about the explosion?"

Maurus didn't miss the way several of the closer orcs and trolls shifted slightly, all in ways that turned an ear towards him. He frowned a little. Word always spread fast and gossip was one of the things that made the days in camp less boring, but he wasn't interested in being the center of attention.

"It's a goblin camp," Maurus said slowly, as if speaking to someone stupid.

Wiven gave him a slow nod that seemed a equally patient and condescending, clearly not impressed with Maurus' deflection. Truth be told, goblins didn't catastrophically blow up their own homes and workshops nearly as often as people generally implied and Wiven knew it.

"I saw a blown-up tent," Maurus said. "Some shredded tents too. Not sure what exactly exploded. Some dead."

Wiven nodded placidly and turned his gaze back to the barrel. In a much lower, but still careless tone of voice, he added: "Was it a simple misfire?"

Maurus snorted and put down the rag and cup.

"No. Sabotage," he said quietly. That much could hardly hurt and he honestly wasn't sure he wanted to be secretive about Ven'Zarul. As much as he wanted to wring the demon's neck himself, the dead goblins were proof in favor of spreading the word so people could be more on guard. Though mentioning shapeshifting might just lead to deaths due to fear instead.

Having to even consider that made him long for the simplicity of battling centaurs and stalking prey. Those were simple. The thought of hunting made him look down at the cloak on his knee. He could be imagining it, but he thought there was a smell on it, something similar, yet different, sharper and denser than the acrid stench in the air. The beasts had certainly reacted to it.

"Traitors," Wiven said, spitting in disgust and dragging Maurus' attention back to the conversation. One of the drops forming under his palms turned to steam with a hiss. "They'll all burn in the end."

Maurus snorted, but smiled as he began taking off his armor. "I hope you're right.

Some of the darkness in Wiven's face melted away and he smiled. "I am."

"Such conviction," Maurus said, though he felt heartened by Wiven's certainty.

"Where did you leave Arianna and the ghoul?" Wiven asked.

Maurus' fingers halted in the process of loosening one of the straps holding his shoulderplates in place. "Mathias," he said, emphasizing the word. He realized he had no idea where he was, and shrugged. "No clue," he muttered. "Arianna? Warlock business, I guess."

Wiven's eyes flicked to Maurus and his lips curled into a smirk. "Alone? That's unusual."

Maurus looked away from him, glancing around the camp again, shrugging and ignoring the irritation the comment sparked in him. "Not really," he said, the pleasure at removing the weight of his shoulderplates preventing the words from coming out in a grumble.

His eyes again fell on the thing roasting over the nearby fire and his stomach rumbled. He was starving after the battle and the multiple healing sessions he'd endured. With a mental sigh, he took out some of his old, stale food and as he bit into the dry meat, he promised himself he would get out and catch one of those things as soon as possible.

Wiven opened his mouth, but Maurus interrupted him, talking around a mouthful of food: "Have you really been here since we left you?"

The question surprised Wiven, who paused for a moment before answering. "After they used most of the barrels to fight the fires over there," he said, waving a hand vaguely north as his mouth set into an irritated line, "I had to start over with this one."

Then he breathed deeply and the smile returned, even a little giddy and the glow around his hands brightened.

"How did you mess up?"

Maurus resisted the urge to jerk around to look at Wiven. "Mess up?" he asked, voice flat, from irritation aimed at both Wiven and the events of the day.

"Yes," Wiven prompted blithely.

Maurus took a deep breath, not sure how or if he wanted to answer, before he thought of something.

"Got careless," he grumbled truthfully. "Shouldn't have gotten hurt like that."

Out the corner of his eye, he caught Wiven look at him, then shrug.

"True. We can't have you getting incapacitated so that the nasty redskins can get to the squishy elf you're shielding."

Maurus ripped off a chunk of the meat with more force than necessary. He was too tired for Wiven's lazy, pointed prying.

"By the looks of it, you need a helmet."

Maurus ran a hand over his cheek and chuckled at the last, more manageable comment. "Can't argue with that."

"Arianna's and Mathias' faces, streaked with blood, flashed across his inner eye and he added: " We all do."

"Did they run afoul of the bugs too?" Wiven asked.

Maurus glimpsed golden hair to the left and turned his head.

"Ask her yourself," he said as Arianna came into the camp, Ash loping in behind her and drawing a few dark looks. Maurus doubted most people could see it, but her steps were just a bit more violent than they used to be and her hips swayed less as she walked, making her movements much less languid and betraying her irritation. Despite her apparent displeasure, Maurus smiled. Her face was unblemished by blood or wounds, though there were some small grooves where there the bugs had dug particularly deep, still a little redder than the rest of her face. The strands of hair framing her face were clean and her ponytail had been redone, so her hair looked less wild than it had before.

' _Almost a shame,'_ Maurus thought.

"Good evening," Arianna said.

As Wiven cheerfully returned the greeting, Maurus gaze moved from Arianna's face to the eerie, alien sky, which hadn't changed since he'd first seen it, and back to her face. It didn't seem like night was approaching and she didn't sound like she honestly thought it good.

"Welcome back," Maurus said softly. He waved a hand at the ground beside him. "Please sit. You look exhausted."

Arianna stopped, a little suddenly, before taking a slow breath that seemed to force some of the tension from her body. Then she lowered herself to the ground in a smooth motion and crossed her legs, laying her staff beside her. Ash lay down on her other side, putting his head in her lap.

"The lack of blood is an improvement though," Maurus mused. Arianna closed her eyes and exhaled slowly and Maurus added sympathetically: "Were they that bad?"

"They quite correctly pointed out that we can't afford clashes with the Alliance," she said, so quietly that Maurus had to strain to hear her. The crackling fire a few feet away probably made it impossible for the nearby orcs to hear her. She looked at him, narrowed eyes bright with fel fire. "Your loud antics did us no favors."

A heavy mix of anger and shame settled in Maurus' stomach. He opened his mouth to argue, but Arianna spoke before he figured out what to say: "They also wanted the horn, now that the threat he poses has been confirmed."

Maurus snorted angrily. "You didn't give it to them?"

"No," she said irritably. "They didn't insist, seeing as he was out west again by the time the meeting ended."

Maurus spat out a curse at the confirmation that their own grunts and the Alliance had let the dreadlord escape.

"But they do make a good case," Arianna added, tiredness displacing the irritation in her voice. "The horn and the felhounds that have his scent are our only defenses against him. But we don't have enough hounds for everything important and many don't want them as guard dogs."

Maurus' hand closed around the cloak on his knee and a smirk curled his lips.

"You're too focused on magic."

Arianna raised an eyebrow in silent question and he added, raising the cloak: "Worgs, raptors, kodos. We have plenty of sharp noses here."

Arianna was silent as her eyes traced the ragged outline of the dirty garment. Her gaze finally met Maurus' and he savored the brief moment where realization entered her eyes. Her mouth formed into a sly smile to match Maurus' widening one.

"It seems we do blind ourselves to the more mundane solutions," she said, her voice turning smooth and pleased. Her warm, thin fingers brushed over Maurus large thumb as she grabbed the cloak and pulled it closer. She smelled it cautiously and wrinkled her nose. "Certainly unique. Are you sure it will work?"

"Our animals are very clever. Smart enough to communicate the scent, ask any breeder or hunter," Maurus answered. "In a day or two, any animal in camp will know recognize him."

"It seems there is a place you have us beat," Arianna mused, her tone and smirk taking the bite out of the backhanded insult. She laid the cloak back on his knee and he couldn't help but notice the warmth of her hand through the garment.

"Good to see your little spat is over."

Maurus blinked. He'd almost forgotten Wiven. Realizing he'd leaned toward Arianna a little, he shifted to lean back on his hands instead and turned his head to Wiven.

' _Odd choice of words,'_ Maurus thought, though Wiven's words were only part of the reason for the confusion he felt appearing on his face.

"I'm still not exactly thrilled with his actions," Arianna said, words curter than they had been a just moments earlier.

"And what were those?" Wiven asked airily, voice louder than either of theirs had been. "You are both being awfully circumspect."

Maurus glanced at Arianna, catching a quick tensing of her jaw. This time, at least, it hadn't just been him running his mouth. They were too tired.

"I don't think you'll have trouble figuring it out," he said, getting an exaggerated scoff from Wiven. He turned to Arianna and added: "Maybe we should tell the unit. We're probably more at risk now."

"I need to discuss it with the others," Arianna said. "They do have the right of it concerning the horn. I can't search in my sleep and that is a large window."

"This'll be a lot harder now," Maurus admitted, closing his eyes and running a hand over his face, feeling like his body was twice as heavy as it usually was. "He might even-"

He trailed off and opened his eyes before starting again. "He might try to use it against us, but that goes both ways."

"Optimistic," Arianna said. She made a little snort. "Good."

Already feeling a little lighter, Maurus nodded decisively. "We just need to be ready."

His eyes found the dents on Arianna's left cheek. "We need some headgear for one."

Arianna brought a hand to her face, tracing the marks there and Maurus thought he saw a hint of dismay in her expression, but it was gone so fast that he wasn't sure. Deciding not to let his gaze linger on her face, he looked down at Ash.

The memory of how Ash had been useless in the tent came back to him.

"If we give it up, we need to be sure Ash is on our side."

Arianna gave him a hard look. "What do you mean?" she asked, tone deceptively neutral.

"He was useless back there. Can he be trusted to track and guard us?"

Arianna was uncharacteristically silent for a moment, before she stroked a hand across Ash' head and neck with a gentleness that was at complete odds with the ice in her voice: "He'll do better."

"You seem to have your work cut out for you," Wiven said, carelessly cutting through the tension. "Of course, it might be that I could help if you let me in on it. I would appreciate it, now that I know I'm exposed for associating with you."

"We're not marked for death," Maurus said. "Just watch out for anything odd or anyone acting suspicious. Pretend you're in Ratchet."

He looked at Wiven. Behind the lazy, uncaring expression he could see a hint of frustration.

"I doubt you're in much more danger anyway. Water boys are probably on the list anyway. It's hard to fight when you're dying of thirst."

Wiven snorted. "Very reassuring. Thank you."

Arianna chuckled and Maurus cocked his head at her.

"You're in no position to call him boy," she said good-naturedly. "He's the oldest person in the unit.

Maurus raised his eyebrows and looked at Wiven. His fine features were reminiscent of the young humans Maurus had seen from time to time in Ratchet, more similar to the women than the men, and not a single wrinkle or blemish marred his face except for the scar that went from his right, high cheekbone to just past his lower lip. His limbs were thin, but not in the wasted way that often came with old age and Maurus knew his movements were almost as smooth as Arianna's.

He looked across the camp at the pair of shamans. The tauren's fur was turning patchy and had long since become dry and brittle, though he still showed proud strength. The orc was bent with age, had skin that was mottled and wrinkled and his hair was a dull grey, but he didn't look weaker than the rest of the camp.

That was a shock. He knew elves were long-lived, but he'd never really thought about it and for some reason, the revelation bothered him as he turned back to the two elves, catching a slight crease vanish from Arianna's forehead.

To push the thought from his mind, he said: "You might be better off. Ash  _has_  been a very good guard dog and he knows the enemy."

In fact, except for the confrontation with the dreadlord, Ash had been as well-behaved as any well-trained hound, only showing aggression to threats and demons. Maurus frowned. Except for when they'd just passed through the Portal.

Wiven said something, but Maurus ignored it and smacked a hand to his forehead, letting out a growl as he remembered the orc they'd passed that very morning. They'd seen the same face pressed down onto the execution block just hours later.

"What is it?" Arianna asked, frowning at Maurus.

Anger mixed with nausea in his stomach as he recalled the rush he'd felt as he saw the axe fall on what he was now sure was an innocent orc.

"We saw Zarul this morning. Ash smelled him." he said harshly, the name slipping out. "That was why the orc under the axe was familiar."

Arianna's eyes widened slightly as she followed his logic. She spat a harsh string of Eredun and dark magic curled around her right hand before she collected herself and banished it again.

Wiven looked lost, but Maurus could see him turning things over in his head. It wouldn't surprise him if he figured it out.

He felt a hand on his knee and looked down on Arianna's slim fingers.

"We can't change the past," she said grimly. "The orc and the goblins are merely more lives he must pay for. Remember the fallen. Make him pay in blood."

"Remember the fallen," Wiven echoed, as Maurus swallowed and nodded.

"If I get my way, he dies screaming," he said darkly, though his mood had improved slightly. He closed his massive hand over Arianna's and squeezed it once. She turned her hand over and brushed a thumb along his, brightening his mood further.

"Fire ensures that," Wiven said. His voice was still light, but his smile was cruel. It reminded Maurus vaguely of Mathias. "So you should let me help."

"We'll," Maurus began, lifting his hand and interrupting himself with a yawn. "I need sleep," he muttered. "We'll fill you in tomorrow. I think we'll have peace that long at least."

He glanced at Arianna and when she didn't protest, he pushed his belongings back into his tent. He yawned again and wished them good night before crawling into his cramped little tent and collapsing bonelessly.

* * *

He looked down into the darkness. The light played over the water as ripples spread across it in gentle waves, expanding until they hit the black stone edges, then shrinking again, disrupting the other waves as they spread in turn. He watched the waves slow and shrink, his throat constricting and his heart sinking as the water stilled into mirror-like smoothness, reflecting three grim faces. The one in the middle was white and ghost-like, with short braids hanging from behind two forward-facing horns and a thick, silver ring in the large nose. The faces to the left and right were black as coal, with thick horns that stuck out straight to either side and both their hair and beards were set in elaborate braids. Dull orange flickered in the sky above them.

Swallowing, he looked up from the well, his head feeling heavy and his movements sluggish. He whirled around and stumbled down the hill, his heavy hooves making it hard not to trip over the boulders and the wrecks of cogs, gears and drills. Fire played in the burrows and ramshackle houses around him and the trees writhed in the light like gaunt specters. The air stank like festering wounds and oozing boils and the flames sounded like the moaning of reedy voices.

Desperately, he pressed on, his heart pounding in his chest, feeling the cliffs close in around him, closing above him. The gate ahead blocked the river from view, but the sound of the rushing water was beginning to overpower the accusing moans on the air and he knew the river was clean, free from corruption and pollution despite its location.

A dull pain lanced up his leg and he looked down to see the rusty, round sawblade, splitting his hoof up to his ankle. He staggered, but regained his balance, eyes returning to the wooden gate ahead, only to fall when he felt something blunt hurtle into his other leg.

As he fell, he glanced back and saw a small, green face, nose crooked and covered with crater like scars, eyes bright with hate.

"Run, hero," hissed the goblin.

He hit the ground without feeling the pain, scrambling forward mindlessly, away from cliffs and the moans and the sour stench behind him, despite knowing he was alone again.

Then he felt warm hands grip his and raise him to his hooves. He found himself standing right in front of the gate, Arianna's hands beneath his, her bright green eyes staring into his. She smiled at him, cocking her head so the flickering shadow of her curled horns fell across her face.

A shrieking appeared just at the edge of hearing, a sound he could just barely make out against the screams, the feeble moans and the rush of water, but he ignored it, mesmerized by Arianna's gaze.

She flicked her tail, making a sound like a cracking whip, and it made him lower his gaze, feeling warm as he let his eyes wander down her slender neck, across her modest chest, to her hips and long, bare legs.

The shrieking grew to a gibbering howling. Five points of dim pain pierced into both his arms and he raised his gaze, running it over black armor, pale skin, up and up, to the cold green eyes that looked down at him with cruel amusement. The dreadlord tossed him back, his long sharp claws drawing lines of weak pain along his arms and spread his arms dramatically, drawing the gaze to the man and the woman hanging from the gate behind him. They were suspended by ropes tied around their hands, faces obscured by golden and straw-colored hair, naked but for the blood from the symbols carved into their flesh.

As Maurus fought helplessly to stand back up the dreadlord opened his mouth and said a single word. Arianna and Mathias threw their heads back, eyes and mouth opening wide as their bodies went rigid, every muscle taut against their maimed skin. With startling speed, the runes flared up and light blazed from their eyes and mouths. For a long moment, the yellow fire burned its way out from within Mathias while green flame struggled to escape Arianna. Then the fires went out, like a snuffed candle and the two went limp.

Maurus was frozen. His heart had stopped, his eyes blurred, and he was choking as saw the fiery rocks fall from the sky, crashing into the gate and tearing it apart in a green-white explosion that drew up and formed into towering infernals.

Cackling demons, roaring monsters, nightmares, came hurtling toward him across the hills behind the dreadlord. Despite knowing his doom was approaching, Maurus turned, feeling no control over his own body. With the demons at his back, he looked across red plains, past the Stonetalon Mountains, to the green grass of Mulgore and saw the flame roll forward, feeling like everything was closing in around him.

"All shall burn," said the familiar, deep voice, as a large, cold, taloned hand closed around his throat with savage strength.

Maurus woke with a start and for a confused moment he panicked at the sight of the dark, enclosed space he found himself in. Then he brushed against the edge of the tent and realized where he was, though his heart kept hammering in his chest. He hurriedly turned around, crawling out of the darkness and out into the camp.

The noise outside was far more subdued than it had been when he went to sleep but it was still loud and Maurus was thankful for the buzz of thousands of people, the crackle of hundreds of fires and the snatches of shouting and singing. It pushed him fully awake and revealed the dark vision that still lingered in his head for just what it was; a nightmare.

After taking a moment to orient himself, his eyes darted to Mathias' and Arianna's tents and some of the cold in his body melted at the sight of Ash, seemingly snoring, at the entrance to Arianna's tent and even more vanished as he saw Mathias sitting by his tent. He had removed most of his armor, now just wearing a ragged mishmash of cloth and leather and he looked smaller without it. In his pale, gloveless hands, he cradled a simple, steel helmet, its smooth and untarnished surface a stark contrast to the scarred and battered armor lying in a heap beside him. His head was bowed toward it, but his eyes were on Maurus.

Maurus found himself breathing a little easier, though the dread still clung him like a shroud, a thin layer between him and the rest of the world.

"You look rattled," Mathias said. His voice was as empty of emotion as his face. "Conscience plaguing you?"

Maurus felt a shiver go down his spine at Mathias' choice of words. He swallowed thickly and wiped his eyes, finding that his hand came away wet. Instead of looking at Mathias, he let his gaze wander. The camp was seemingly empty, though the snores told him where most people were. The two elderly shamans were awake, tossing bones, though by their slurred speech, nothing important would come of it. There were guards at the wider path into the middle of the camp and he spotted Payta at the entrance to her tent, some distance away, talking to a troll Maurus knew wasn't part of the unit. The normalcy was reassuring, but his dark dream remained a looming shadow in his thoughts.

"Nightmare," Maurus muttered finally, turning back and meeting Mathias' gaze. For a moment he remembered the deep, oozing wounds in the nightmare and he blinked to rid himself of the vision. Mathias fully turned his head to him.

"That's new," he said sarcastically. His voice filled with scorn as he continued: "Awake or asleep, you're at the mercy of your moods."

Maurus clenched a fist and glared at Mathias, his rising anger beginning to displace the lingering unease from his dream. "You're hardly as cold as you'd expect of a corpse," he growled, taking a step forward to loom over Mathias. "I saw the grunts holding you back."

Without looking away from Maurus, Mathias put down the helmet and rose to his feet. "But I know when to keep my-"

Maurus cut him off: "You'd have gutted yourself on the footmens' swords if the grunts hadn't stopped you. Will that help us catch Zarul?"

Mathias' milky eyes, glowing with the faintest yellow light, bored into Maurus'. He was deadly still, but rigid muscles stood out against his dry skin and his hands were half-curled, ready to lash out with the sharp, bony tips of his fingers.

He opened his mouth, baring his teeth and then abruptly deflated, shoulders slumping, arms going limp. "Now he knows," he hissed, breaking from Maurus' gaze. There was a note of misery in his voice. "How will we catch him when he knows we're chasing him?"

The anger in Maurus' chest dimmed and he felt his own muscles loosening.

"Did you talk with Arianna?" he asked brusquely.

"No."

Maurus briefly relayed the conversation he'd had with the blood elves. As he did, calm settled over him, though he still couldn't push away a small bit of irritation that remained aimed at Mathias.

Mathias changed from gloomy to sullen when he mentioned the cloak.

"Not sure I like the idea using the animals. Zarul might just run if he can't come back into camp," he said. "Light, he might run anyway."

Maurus shook his head. "We can't allow him to cause more death," he said seriously. Mathias' jaw clenched, but after a few moments, he gave a grudging nod.

"Remember the dreadlords' arrogance," Maurus added, trying to soothe his friend. "He doesn't  _really_  know what we have. The animals might even throw him off."

He could see in Mathias' face how skepticism fought with the desire to believe what he said.

"And in the end, it doesn't matter," Maurus said. He put a hand on Mathias' shoulder. "We  _will_ catch him."

The conviction returned to Mathias' eyes and he finally regained some of his usual smile and Maurus smiled at the sight.

He glanced down at the helm. It was simple piece, with thin slits for the eyes, a solid nose guard and a thin opening down the middle. For a moment, he wondered if that would be any use against Ven'Zarul's magic bugs and thought of the goggles he'd seen in the goblin camp. Then he considered going into battle with glass strapped to his eyes and winced.

"You think your smith can make me something too?"

Mathias shrugged. "Maybe. Your muzzle might give him some trouble."

"If he's any good, he'll manage," Maurus said. His eyes wandered to Arianna's tent.

"Thinking of a present for the long-ear?"

Maurus turned back to Mathias, whose smile had turned crooked. He licked his lower lip and flicked an ear that felt warm.

"She's little help if she's blinded," he said, voice carefully casual, at odds with the little uncomfortable flutter in his stomach that Mathias' words provoked. "I owe her for the shield."

Mathias snorted lightly. "Of course."

Maurus scratched his chin, not really sure how to respond. Out the corner of his eye, he saw something green and red approach and he felt somewhat grateful for the distraction as he turned to the approaching orc. He was vaguely familiar, but Maurus couldn't place the bushy beard and the long topknot.

"Maurus?" the orc asked.

Slightly uneasy, Maurus nodded, deciding the grunt was probably from the Path of Glory. He wasn't that surprised that he had guessed who he was. There weren't that many white tauren. But worry prickled along his neck about why he would seek him out.

"Dokun wants your money today," he said. Mathias tilted his head at Maurus.

"Healer," Maurus said to Mathias, before asking: "Morning already?"

The orc nodded. "Also, the goblins wants to speak to you."

"Why?" Maurus asked, a squirming feeling in his stomach.  _'No,_  he told himself,  _'there's no reason to worry.'_

The orc shrugged. "Didn't say. Just tossed me some coppers for passing the message." He gave Maurus a glance that told him his unease hadn't gone unnoticed. "I think you should focus on Dokun. Getting that debt out of the way would be wise."

With that the orc nodded and left.

Maurus looked up at the sky, seeing it looking much the same as it had when he went to sleep. It unsettled him slightly, not being able to tell the time from the sky, something that only added to the ever present unease of Draenor. And now the goblins wanted him again.

He looked at Mathias. "No lazing around today."

Mathias nodded. "Good."


	9. First One Up

Chasing Through Hell

First One Up

Maurus hefted the purse in his hand as the tent flap fell behind him. It weighed much less than it had earlier that morning. He looked at Mathias.

"I thought this would last longer," he grumbled as they turned north. Hundreds of faint smoke columns lined the sky, the sign of the camp waking in earnest and stoking the fires for cooking. The noise of the camp was growing, the low buzz of the night changing into the louder rumble of thousands of people talking and moving, mixed with the odd howl and roar of stirring animals and the ringing of hammers on anvils. It reminded Maurus of any city he'd ever been in and it was oddly comforting, despite his preference for the open steppes. But then again, the steppes here were as strange as the sky above and much more dangerous.

"War is expensive," Mathias said. He scratched his neck, the raw bone of his finger running along the edge of the wound there that never healed. "You could try to not get skewered."

"That is what some of it's supposed to help," Maurus answered, fastening the mostly empty purse on his belt. He kept a hand on it, not willing to risk losing it to one of the many people passing him on the road.

"And so it goes," Mathias said, nodding. "I'm a little impressed you didn't get fleeced to be honest."

Maurus snorted, eyeing a leather-clad orc that bumped into him before dismissing him. "You don't make much of a living as a hunter without knowing how to haggle."

"Blacksmiths can't be who you usually deal with," Mathias responded.

Maurus pointedly shook himself, a violent motion that made several passersby edge away a little as his mail and plates rattled noisily.

"With all this steel, I can't avoid it," Maurus said wryly. "I can only repair so much of it myself.

Mathias tilted his head in acknowledgement. He looked around at the smiths that lined the path ahead, working metal, haggling or calling out to the throngs of people seeking their services.

"Plenty of them here too," he noted. "Doesn't the noise scare the animals away?"

Maurus shrugged and this time, the armor made very little sound. "Most of the animals I hunt won't run. They fight."

He recalled some conversations he'd had in Ratchet and added: "Most animals in Kalimdor stand their ground. Stranglethorn seemed the same. Is it different in the north?"

"Prey runs, and most predators fear us too," Mathias answered. He smiled sardonically. "Of course, that's the few that aren't tainted. Those are rabid."

Maurus chuckled. He was used to Mathias' dark comments by now and from what he could see, there was little bitterness in his expression.

"Dangerous?" he asked. He didn't think he'd ever go to the dead kingdom, didn't think he could stomach it, but he couldn't deny the curiosity. Mathias' stories had rarely mentioned the wildlife.

"Somewhat," Mathias said, as they left the crowd behind and stepped out into the flat land that surround the goblin camp. "Wolves without fear are dangerous. Their rotted brains make them a little less so. Bears are worse."

"How big are your bears?"

Mathias looked at Maurus. "Around your size."

"So some things  _are_ the same on both sides of the ocean," Maurus said lightly. "Sometimes it sounds like you've gelded your lands."

Mathias grinned. "Maybe a little. I don't think they are any less dangerous though. It just isn't because of nature."

There was a hint of resigned bitterness in the last few words and Maurus only just kept a derisive snort from escaping. The so-called civilized peoples seemed to always bring doom on themselves and others, but Mathias couldn't be held responsible and wouldn't benefit from Maurus voicing the thought. Instead he shrugged and looked ahead as they reached the edge of the goblin camp.

Like yesterday, bruisers came out to block their path, nine heavily armored and armed goblins forming a line and staring them down, but they looked a little less suspicious than the ones they'd met then. The middle one, wearing goggles instead of a helmet and sporting a scarlet mohawk that would put a troll to shame, looked up at him. The nervous quiver in Maurus' stomach, which he had managed to ignore so far, grew as the goblin scrutinized him for what felt like a long time.

"You Maurus?" he asked.

Maurus simply nodded.

The goblin tilted his head and two of the other goblins, in full-face helmets, did likewise and Maurus tried to gauge their expressions, but he could only make out the glitter of their eyes through the slits in the helmets.

"Are you going to tell me why I was called here?" he asked brusquely. "Or maybe just get out of my way?"

The goblin revealed his teeth in the kind of grin bruisers were very adept at, but didn't speak. It had the opposite effect of what he probably intended and Maurus' unease was pushed aside by irritation.

"I am not here for your company," he said lowly. "Help, move or I assume the message was a mistake."

The goblin, apparently deciding he'd had his fun, jerked a hand over his shoulder. "Go right, the long tent at the end."

Maurus gave a grunt of acknowledgement and started forward. As expected the goblins allowed him through, though the two goblins that had studied him as intently as their leader kept their eyes on him as he and Mathias continued down the road. When they turned the corner, Mathias glanced at him.

"Some day, I have to know," he said. He was grinning lazily, though there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes. And something else.

Maurus looked away, glancing at the tents as they passed. The goblins were in a frenzy of activity, and the clank of hammers and the whine of some of their more odd tools grated on his ears. There seemed to be even more explosives lying around, in neat stacks, as well as the myriad strange contraptions the goblins made when they weren't concentrated on making things explode.

"I am at fault," he admitted. The words came more easily than he'd expected, though it still pained him to say them and he said them so quietly that he wasn't sure Mathias could even hear them. He certainly didn't get a reply.

They walked through the goblin camp in silence and the unease crept back, worsened by Mathias' silence and the goblins that studied them as they passed, making Maurus' stomach squirm. No-one stopped them though and they soon caught sight of their destination.

The tent was impossible to miss. It looked much like the others, low enough that Maurus was going to have to crouch, and matte black, but it was at least thrice as long as most. Outside it stood a wagon, filled with thick rods, made from steel or a dark, greenish metal, still tied to a kodo that was snoring loudly. Its handler, a burly troll, sat leaned against the tauren, snoring as well.

A trio of bruisers, in armor slightly above usual bruiser standard, which was saying something, watched them as they approached and Maurus prepared himself for another pointless standoff.

"Maurus?" one of them called, fingering the pickaxe he carried in place of the usual mace. Like the two beside him, his face was completely covered by his helmet, concealing his expression.

Maurus nodded and to his surprise the speaker stepped back, inside the tent, holding the tent flap open for them. He had to crouch to fit in the low opening.

The inside of the tent was brightly lit and even warmer than outside. Goblins and tools were everywhere, and Maurus realized they were working on several long, long ladders, made of the metal from the wagons. What drew his attention was the blocky patchworks of pistons, gears and solid plates of steel that was being attached at one end of the ladders. If Maurus sat down and curled his arms around himself, he would be about the size of the block, though much less irregular in shape.

"Oi, foreman. White tauren for you!" the bruiser shouted. Maurus barely restrained a cringe as a third of the tent looked at him. Thankfully, most of them went back to work almost immediately, though one of them sprang up from her seat at a wide table, covered with ceramic balls.

"Is that a ballista?" Mathias asked, a note of surprise in his voice as the goblin passed a large contraption of wood and steel. Maurus realized he was right but his attention drifted to the approaching goblin as she almost tripped over what looked like an odd, very solid-looking, very thick length of chain that was on the floor, but recovered her balance, dodged a crouching goblin and came to a stop in front of Maurus and Mathias. She looked up at him with eyes that looked massive through her goggles. Beneath a nose that you could stab someone with was a wide, wild grin, which seemed odd, considering both her face and her unruly hair was black like something had gone wrong in the way goblin creations usually did. Only a few spots of her face showed her green skin and the very tips of her hair were still red.

"Hi, Boss," she chirped, wiping her black fingers on her leather smock before giving up. A reasonable decision, considering the smock was as sooty black as the rest of her. She glanced at Mathias and added cheerfully: "Dead guy."

Maurus felt the tension seep out of his shoulders and his stomach settled. He smiled down at the small goblin.

"Morning, Widget," he said, grasping her outstretched hand. Most of her arm vanished between Maurus' fingers as he shook it. "I'm hardly your boss anymore."

"Only if you and your unit commander agrees. And the-" She trailed off, frowned and leaned to look around Maurus. "Where's the elf?"

Mathias snorted.

"Hopefully asleep," Maurus answered. "It's too early. I think. What were you saying?"

Widget spun and half-ran back to the ballista, waving at them to follow.

"I have a new job and you can get one too. Your bulk and voice are perfect. You can make people move."

"I thought you were still in Azeroth," Mathias said, leaning on the low table.

"Clean-up was quick. So were the zeppelins."

"Of course you would get one," Mathias grumbled. Maurus shared some of Mathias' irritation. After the trip through Duskwood and the Blasted Lands, he didn't think he would pass up a zeppelin ride to avoid the dreadful areas, if at all possible, despite his aversion to flying by way of volatile balloon.

"What's your new job?" Maurus asked.

"Front line zapper," she said gleefully. "Should be more exciting than working on that water machine or being foreman for this crew," she added, sweeping a hand out in the direction of the other goblins. "They don't need me anymore anyway."

Maurus gave the bombs on the table another look and felt an urge to step backwards. Mathias was studying one lying just beside his right hand with careful eyes. Widget gave a little snicker.

"Don't worry, those are as stable as they come."

Maurus glanced at her, both eyebrows raised, not very reassured. Her smile widened.

"The others laughed at them, called them useless." Her voice turned smug. "They need a lot of heat to go off, but then they  _really_ go off. And it's called the Burning Legion for a reason."

Maurus made a thoughtful sound.

"They don't even need a fuse. Everyone can use one. Just lob it at, say, a big, burning pile of rocks?" Widget said, nudging one of the bombs and sending it rolling over to Maurus. He picked it up carefully. It was a goblin explosive after all.

A violent motion out the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned his head to see Mathias shaking on the bombs. He felt an instant of panic, but the lack of explosions and Widget's confident smile made him relax.

"This could be useful," Mathias said carefully. "What are you asking?"

"You going over the wall with me," Widget answered. She pointed at Maurus. "You in particular. Then I'll keep you supplied."

"That  _is_  front line," Maurus said slowly. "Very dangerous front line."

Widget snorted. "Don't try to pretend you're not interested. It'll be just like last time."

"I doubt that," Maurus said flatly.

"Glory, honor, first on the battlements, all that stuff," Widget wheedled. She looked at Mathias, eyes gleaming shrewdly. "Good position to look around too. And I get to blow up stuff."

"You've talked to Zolan, haven't you?" Mathias asked, looking up from the bomb in his hand.

"Yup. I'm guessing your little commotion by the filtration unit yesterday is a sign that you are still giving it your all. You didn't hesitate then, why now?"

"Climbing ladders is a good way to get shot. And going over the wall is hardly easy either, from what I hear," Maurus said, his voice neutral.

"The Canyon was a crapshoot too," Widget replied, her excitement unwavering. "This time, there won't be anything coming down on our heads. At least, not after we're in position."

Maurus gave her a skeptic glance. He could think of plenty of things. He doubted the orcs lacked archers or worse. Widget's eyes twinkled.

"You'll come around. Come with me, we need to get you measured."

* * *

 

"You are an idiot."

Maurus stopped fiddling with the straps crossing his chest and looked up to see Arianna giving him a critical look. Ash paced around her feet, the spines on his back raised in his equivalent of raised hackles.

Maurus tilted his head, smiled wryly and studied her in turn. She was wearing a heavier robe than usual, dark red and trimmed with gold, with long sleeves and a collar. Dark gloves covered her fingers, and Maurus found it a little odd to see her so covered up. She'd preferred her sleeveless, lighter gown till now and judging by the sweat beading her brow, she still did. Her hair was different, loose and clinging tightly to her head, so she could wear her new helmet. The simple, unadorned helmet lay at her feet, similar, but much sleeker and thinner than a footman helmet. It would do little to stop a determined blow, but it would protect from burns and magic, making her less likely to be incapacitated like before.

"Why, specifically?" he asked.

"Those leading the charge rarely lives. Especially in sieges."

"I've survived so far," he said. He was careful to keep his voice light and avoid glancing to the side, where the dark walls of Hellfire Citadel loomed in the distance, jagged and foreboding. Even from here, he could see the line of red faces peering over the walls.

"You've never done this before," Arianna said, a dark undertone in her voice.

"Maybe it's about time," Maurus replied. His jaw clenched as he heard the slight timbre of nervousness in his voice. He looked around at the soldiers preparing around the camp and his eyes fell on Mathias, who was sitting in front of his tent, looking utterly calm as he sharpened his sword. He touched a hand to his left horn, adding: "Will make me feel less like a greenhorn, compared to all the veterans."

Arianna scoffed. She opened her mouth, but seemed to catch herself and instead closed her eyes before taking a deep breath. She seemed to breathe with her entire body, lifting her head and spreading her arms slightly and by now he recognized the way she drew in the ambient magic that was everywhere in Outland. The movement never failed to draw his gaze to her slim form, to her hips and her rising chest, nor to spark a flicker of heat deep within him.

He blinked as he realized he'd felt only a hint of that heat yesterday, when Payta had sauntered through the camp, tail swishing and hips rolling suggestively, before dragging one of the tauren Maurus didn't know towards her tent. He blinked again and looked back to Arianna's face when she gave a little pleased hum, her fine features relaxing. When she opened her eyes and caught his wide eyes, hers burned a little brighter. She stepped forward, and Maurus was torn between leaning toward or away from her when she reached a hand. He ended up not moving and her fingers curled around one of the straps on his chest, giving it a sharp little tug. Her lips were pursed, but with little genuine irritation.

"You're trusting goblin work. I thought you were smarter than that," she chided as she let go, her familiar tone easing his bewilderment somewhat.

"So are you," he managed after a moment's hesitation, looking away from Arianna and back, across the sea of people behind him, past the siege engines, to the brown and purple hulls of the fifteen zeppelins that rested at the rear end of the army. She followed his gaze.

"Tried and tested goblin inventions. From before the Second War," she answered, but there was a little bit of teasing in her voice, conceding that they were still goblin inventions. But he couldn't deny that the zeppelins were as safe as goblin inventions went. There hadn't been an accident in years.

' _Though plenty have been destroyed deliberately,'_  he couldn't help but think and his thoughts strayed to the windriders' reports of ballistae and catapults. The latter were even visible to Maurus, jutting over the walls of the Citadel. But he had as much chance of talking her out of boarding the zeppelins as she had of talking him out of his own assignment and his was in part to protect the zeppelins from the ballistae anyway.

"Which won't reach the walls if nobody leads the charge," he said, unwilling to put words to his pessimistic thoughts. Instead, he grinned crookedly and added: "Think of it as me doing my duty as meatshield."

She rolled her eyes. Then she brought her hands together, and the rolling syllables of a spell spilled from her lips. Green mist appeared between her fingers, coalescing into a familiar dark stone.

"You have to be properly supplied then," she said, placing the health stone in his mail-covered palm, letting both her hands rest on top of it. It felt weird how her gloves masked the heat of her skin, but Maurus' grin softened at the touch. "That should take care of the first few arrows," she added.

Maurus closed his fingers around her hands, easily covering both. His ear flicked as he picked up what he thought was a quiet snort, but he ignored it.

"I'd prefer not to use it. I don't  _like_  pain," he said, scrunching up his nose, feeling the scar tissue between his nostrils stretch.

"That is good to know," Arianna said, withdrawing her hands and smirking a little. "Sometimes I wonder."

"You're not alone in that."

Maurus and Arianna glanced at Mathias. It was the first time he'd spoken that morning. He'd simply risen and donned his armor and silently waited since then, clad head to toe in dark plate and mail. Even his usually bare left hand was clad in mail and strips of armor. Over the armor, he wore a harness similar to Maurus'. He showed his teeth.

"I'll watch his back. Hard not to."

Arianna snorted and stepped over to him. "Before I forget," she said and dropped another health stone in Mathias' lap. "Stay animate."

"This  _is_ serious," Mathias said with mock soberness. Arianna gave him a flat look and after a moment, he rolled his eyes and nodded, putting the stone away.

The bright trumpets sounding from the Alliance camp to the south made Maurus start. For a moment the camp quieted slightly, waiting, and then, not to be outdone, the deep, booming of the Horde war horns rolled through the camp. The sound reminded him of the bellow of mourning beasts and his heartbeat sped up as nervous nausea crept into his gut. The camp had been preparing for a week and the air had been heavy with a tension like he remembered from before earlier battles, only, a thousand times stronger. But now the camp truly came alive. A wave of noise rolled through the camp as everyone turned toward the Citadel and the dull drone of the thousands in the camp grew to a steady roar of metal, shouts, heavy footfalls and more horns.

Maurus bent down and picked up his helmet. It was a two-part piece, with a hinge, so he could close it around his horns, encasing his entire head in steel. The only openings were the eyeholes and the slits in its front. Two deadly spikes jutted from his forehead. As he placed the heavy metal on his head, the weight of it still felt odd but he fastened it with deft motions.

"We should go meet the others," he said, picking up his massive black axe, as meticulously sharpened as Mathias' sword. He reached out a hand and laid it on Arianna's shoulder. After a moment he said: "Good thing Wiven's staying. Improves your zeppelin's chances."

Arianna padded his hand once and met his gaze. Judging from her expression, she still found it odd to see the helmet. "Don't get too far ahead. I'll be on the first one up. You're going to need me. Or at least Ash," she said.

Maurus nodded, chuckling a little. They'd confirmed earlier that Ven'Zarul was in the Citadel or somewhere around it and hopefully the siege would allow them to get to him. Though whether they would be able to defeat him when they found him was a question he tried to keep out of his mind.

"Don't crash," he said lightly.

"That's up to the goblins," she replied blithely. "Don't fall off."

Maurus snorted, but before he could replay, Mathias cut in: "Didn't you say we should go? Because I agree. Things to kill."

Maurus glanced at him and lifted his hand from Arianna's shoulder. She bent down and picked up her staff and helmet, and put the helmet on, concealing everything but her glowing eyes.

"Light be with you," she said, more somberly than he'd expected, nodding at both of them and lifting a fist to her chest in salute. Mathias snorted, but inclined his head the slightest bit.

"Spirits watch over you," Maurus murmured seriously, mirroring Arianna's salute. She turned and walked away.

He felt worry and an odd sense of loneliness as he fell into step along Mathias and the other warriors, though he wasn't as confused by that sense as he would have been a few days ago. He tightened his grip on his axe and shook himself, feeling reassured by the weight of his shield on his back.

"A piece of advice, Maurus," Mathias said. Maurus grunted in response and turned his head to Mathias, a little curious. He usually didn't use his name like that. "Don't hesitate."

Maurus found himself swallowing, yet he gave Mathias a scowl too, not quite able to hold back his irritation, both at himself and at the meddling, and it mixed with his fear and worry. He exhaled violently through his nose.

"Let's go kill something," he grumbled. A sliver of Mathias' best death's head grin showed through the slit in his helmet, and Maurus had the sudden suspicion that Mathias had wanted to get that rise out of him.

"That's the spirit," Mathias said.

* * *

 

The army marched on Hellfire Citadel in a cacophony of metal, kodoskin drums and heavy footfalls, kicking up a cloud of dust that partly obscured the camp vanishing behind them. Guarding their flanks were lighter soldiers, druids, shamans and both normal and kodo cavalry. High above the vibrant banners carried by the army, a dozen windriders circled carefully, watching for enemy movements, but staying some way behind the front line, unwilling to brave the ballistae on the citadel walls. They were approaching from the northeast, avoiding the Path of Glory and the wide gorge that it led into, because that area, right in front of the huge, heavy gates, was designed as a killing field.

Further south, on the other side of the Path, the Alliance was making their way toward their end of the Citadel. Gyrocopters puttered along over the rear guard, while griffons and hippogryphs circled over the sea of silver making up the center of the force.

There was simply no comparing the scale of this to the battles in Ashenvale, and nervous trembles darted through Maurus now and then. His grip on his axe was white-knuckled and he kept switching his attention between the jagged walls and everything around him, unable to decide which made him more uneasy. And once again, he was in responsible for more than just himself, something that both humbled and frightened him in a way unrelated to the more immediate fear of the battle.

He was beginning to think Arianna might have been right.

He was walking along the rear end of one of the heavy, thick ladders in the center of the front block. Twenty five had been made, each long enough to reach the top of the walls ahead. There were wheels on the ladders and odd-looking chains ran between several points on the ladder and the blocks of machinery Maurus had seen in the tent. Those blocks had been hitched to the armored kodos dragging the ladders along, two kodos to each ladder.

Behind him, the ballista from the tent rolled to a rumbling stop and the goblins and orcs around it began securing it.

All around him, orcs, trolls and tauren marched forward. The vast majority were warriors in heavy plate and the rest consisted almost entirely of shamans and druids. Other than Mathias, who was in front of him, attention fixed on the top of the walls, there were a few undead here and there. There were only two blood elves within view, both in red plate edged with gold, the closest of which was walking on the opposite side of the ladder from Maurus. That one, Calen, was going to be first over the top, along with Maurus. Looking at the willowy elf, the idea seemed ridiculous but he had heard the stories of paladins' unnatural resilience.

Five goblins were walking down by the kodos. Widget was hurrying along beside him, her blunderbuss over her shoulder. She wore the same mishmatch of leather and mail that she'd worn in Ashenvale, with a harness over that and a bowl-looking helmet made her head look very round. On her back was a new backpack and Maurus tried not to worry too much about the contents straining the fabric of the pack.

Glancing ahead, he noticed that the goblins were climbing onto the kodos.

"You should get up before the run," he said to Widget and without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her with his free hand, fingers tightening around on of the straps of her harness. She gave a little yelp as he lifted her and put her down on his shoulder, but almost immediately she scrambled over his pauldron, sliding down into the stirrups attached to the harness along his back. There were two sharp clicks and then he felt her relax, securely fastened so she could look and aim over his shoulder.

He feared he was going to need a healer for his ears after the battle.

"A little more warning would be nice," she squeaked, but there was little real heat in it. He had after all picked her up like that a few times in the last few days. He shrugged.

"Beats being trampled when we start running," he said remorselessly. He raised his voice so it wasn't just Widget that could hear it over the noise of the army when he asked: "You done this before?"

"Nope," Widget said brightly. "Can't be that hard though. Climb, kill, explode. Simple."

Maurus made a half-hearted chuckle.

"Not in this life," Mathias said, never turning his gaze from the walls, which were steadily growing closer, looking stronger and more foreboding the closer they got. At the bottom of the walls there were makeshift barricades and ditches, in several, irregular rows, something he guessed was to break the formation to make more time for shooting.

"Duck your head on the way. Make an impression when you meet the enemy," Calen said grimly. Maurus was a little surprised at the advice. Calen seemed as standoffish as the blood elves was reputed to be and Maurus had expected that having to take orders from a tauren would have ruffled him. Then again, maybe he'd just been glad that the brute was the one who was going to do the shouting. The thought cheered him a little, in spite of himself. The sight of ballistae bolts speeding over his head toward the walls did too.

"I'm good at making myself heard," he said and Mathias and Widget both agreed with exaggerated nods.

That had been amply demonstrated in the drills they'd run in the last few days when time and the fel orc raids allowed them. Widget had joked he'd been put in charge of the volunteers solely on the basis of his ability to roar and Mathias had quietly suggested that Zolan had given him some kind of recommendation. He himself thought Arianna's associates might have something to do with it, along with the fact that many more able leaders might be leery of braving the wall with new goblin inventions. But whatever had put him in the position, those under his command reacted promptly to his orders, even those that were older than him.

They were a little less than half a mile from the citadel when the war drums picked up the pace and horns blared a series of harsh, ominous notes. The block's pace quickened and the thousands of running feet beat out a loud rumble against the red dirt.

"Look out for the artillery," Calen added dryly.

Maurus eyes flicked to him, then back to the walls, feeling the small bit of nervousness he had managed to drive away came back in full force as he saw the bows of the ballistae jerk. A moment later, the massive bolts came down. A little ahead and to the left, one of the ballistae bolts crashed into ground, exploding in a shower of wood, metal and red dirt. It was the only one that fell short. Less than twenty feet to Maurus' left, one of the bolts rent through a tauren and the orcs behind him, coming apart as it did, sending wooden splinters and blood flying through the air. Cries of shock and pain erupted around Maurus as the other bolts tore into the ranks.

A flicker of hesitation swept through the block and the advance stumbled, though only for a moment.

"Forward!" Maurus roared, the frustrated anger that welled up in his chest giving his voice strength and weight. Those around him that had slowed regained their momentum and spurred on by the shouts of the other leaders around them, the entire block surged forward with urgency born of both fear and determination, as the ballistae loosed again.

Maurus clenched his teeth as the catapults on the walls began hurling rocks into the air and the red orcs loosed a cloud of arrows. More shouts sounded as the projectiles came down on the army, but they were almost swallowed up by the thunder of feet and hooves, the clank of armor and the blood pounding in his ears. The sound of the catapults' projectiles weren't though and Maurus realized that it wasn't just rocks they were throwing when he heard the first deep boom and felt the wave of displaced air.

Compared to the bombs and the ballistae bolts, the arrows did little damage. They clattered off armor and shields and Maurus was thankful for his helmet and the interlocking plates that covered his normally exposed neck. Many of the arrows were aimed at those less heavily armored, but the majority missed and the shamans and druids were ready to deal with what did hit them. Only the odd lucky arrow was a threat.

Furious shouts mingled with the crash of artillery and the screams as the army kept running. Maurus' heart raced in his chest and fear had a deadly grip on his insides. There was nothing he could do but keep everyone running and hoping they wouldn't be the ones hit and the helplessness made the fear even worse. On the right, two kodos bellowed in pain when one of the bombs hit right between them, the explosion tearing great bloody chunks from the beasts' sides and crippling their legs. They both stumbled and slid to a halt, kicking up dirt as they did so. Maurus spotted the surviving goblins hurry to the machinery behind them and begin detaching the ladder. Then they fell behind and out of sight. Another ballista bolt soared over his head and impacted less than fifty yards behind him. The only small solace was the bolts flying back the other way and Maurus barked a harsh, satisfied grunt when he saw one of the ballistae on the wall explode as it was hit by one of the Horde's bolts.

They reached the temporary fortifications after what felt like an hour of running. "Soldiers! Lift!" Maurus roared, the effort of making himself heard over the din tearing at his throat. He shifted his axe to his left hand and grabbed the ladder and along with the other volunteers, lifted it and moments later, they were fighting to keep up the speed as they navigated the ditches. Luckily, they didn't have to avoid the barricades. It seemed the fel orcs still hadn't realized the force that was behind a kodo charge and he snorted in grim satisfaction as the kodos lowered their heads and smashed through one barricade after another, hardly slowing. The spikes dented their armor and cut bloody gashes in the kodos' exposed skin, but Maurus knew how hardy the beasts were. He wished Arianna had seen that.

They came to a stop in the shadow of the wall. They were too close for the larger weapons but the arrows rained down on them and he carefully didn't look up at the battlements, not willing to risk getting an arrow in his eye for it.

"Attach," Maurus shouted and briefly shifted the weight of the ladder onto his left shoulder, freeing a hand so he could fasten the two heavy clasps of his harness to the ladder. Beside him, Calen did the same and when they were done, the ones in front of them did the same in turn. As that happened, the goblins fiddled with the wheels on their contraption and with a heavy thump, the main body fell from its raised position to sit heavily on the ground. A series of heavy impacts sounded next, as the cylinders on the side of the block pierced deep into the ground.

On either side, the ladder teams that had made it did the same.

"Shamans," Maurus roared impatiently, expecting rocks or boiling oil or any of the other horrors he'd heard about to fall on the front at any moment.

The shamans and druids came in close and a wash of magic swept over the soldiers by the ladder. What little fatigue he felt evaporated, along with his trepidation. Strength flowed into his limbs and his blood boiled. His mouth watered and he tasted copper and his lips peeled back from his teeth in a savage grimace.

A horn blew from high above and he glanced up at the windrider who'd sounded the signal.

"Ready!" he roared, as the goblin contraptions hissed steam and the kodos began pulling. The chains on the ladder went taut and the weight of the ladder lifted from his shoulder. He and the others snaked arms around the rungs and then they were lifted along with the ladder. For the first few moments, it went slowly, but the ladder rose faster and faster and when it reached the height of its arc, allowing his hooves to find the rungs, the air was whistling past him. The ramparts were a mass of red skin, dark metal and hundreds of green eyes, broken by the catapults and those ballistae that weren't wall-mounted, which stood in a line in the middle of the curved battlement. To the south, on Maurus' left, the main buildings of the Citadel rose to twice the height of the battlements and behind the ramparts was a wide courtyard, hectic with activity. The archers on the wall, with their long, black bows had stepped to the side, away from where the ladders would fall, allowing fel orcs in heavier armor to come forward, heavy blades ready.

Maurus roared in challenge, fear and exhilaration, in unison with the others below him and the excited shrieking of Widget. He detached himself as the ladder came down on the wall and leaped forward almost at the same time the top three feet of the latter fell forward, hooking onto the wall. The crack of Widget's gun half-deafened Maurus just as a flash of golden light made the fel orcs reel back and he barreled into one of the fel orcs, pushing it back into the ones behind. He swung his axe, making several jump back before catching the slowest in the throat, being rewarded with an almost intoxicating spray of blood as the fel orc went down with a gurgle. He heard a bell-like sound and more golden light lit up the ramparts, before the clash of metal sounded as Calen engaged the orcs.

He turned, catching the hard swing of a fel orc on the plates covering his thigh. Unlike his first skirmish with the fel orcs, he was prepared for their speed and strength now and thanks to the shamans' magic, he barely registered the pain. He swung his axe back, letting the spike on the back of the head punch through the chest plate of another orc. She gasped for breath and Maurus kicked her back into the orcs behind her.

Further to the left, warriors leapt off the ladders there, their furious attacks meeting heavy resistance. By the sound of it, the same thing was happening along the wall in the other direction.

Something moved to his right, but the glimpse of dark metal and the hunched posture was enough for him not to worry and Mathias' shield shot into the face of a fel orc that would have slipped his blade under Maurus' arm otherwise. Though unable to see much of Mathias face, Maurus was sure his teeth were bared as his own were. There were thumps behind them as more Horde warriors came onto the battlements, but the fel orcs had recovered.

"Drive them back, you dogs!" a fel orc roared from half-way across the battlement. He was a hulking brute, even by orc standards, a head taller than the ones around him and completely covered in dark armor. Behind him was a ballista, on a slightly raised platform. Instead of metal heads, the ends of the ballista's bolts were thick and black with tar, like enormous fire arrows. That ballista needed to go, but Widget probably couldn't throw that far, not without the fuse possibly going out.

Further to the right, a different group had already fought their way to one of ballistae on the wall itself and the fel orcs lay strewn around it. The effort had left the group isolated though and they were being overwhelmed by the fel orcs. One of the troll screamed as one of the larger fel orcs rushed forward, lifting him and sending him tumbling over the parapet.

Dull pain bloomed in Maurus side as several blows dented his plate. He drove the knob of his axe into the attacker and gestured toward the ballista and the big orc pushing his way through the melee.

"Forward! Give me his head!" he bellowed, feeling a bit of spittle fly from his lips along with his words.

There was another slap of sound against his head as Widget fired again. The hulking fel orc staggered back, metal and blood flying from his chest and Maurus barked something between a shout and a laugh. Behind him he felt the presence of more soldiers, but the press of the fel orcs was hard to fight against. He took off the hand of a fel orc, though the maimed enemy didn't hesitate and he had no room to swing again. Instead he stabbed the axe forward, pushing the orc back into his fellows.

He glanced back. Past the battlements the army was marching steadily toward the wall, though there were battles along the northern flank. Far out in the distance, the zeppelins were rising into the air, a sign that they had to hurry in order to keep the ballistae too busy to shoot. Then his eyes widened when several huge, horned birds came over the parapet to his right. In an instant, their shape flowed and shifted, their feathers melting into coarse fur, beaks changing into muzzles and limbs and body gaining muscle and size. Two massive bears and three large lions, all still sporting horns, landed in the midst of the fel orcs between Maurus and the nearest other ladder, roaring as they threw them into total disarray. He'd seen druids before, but this was the most adept shapeshifting he'd ever seen.

That lifted a little of the pressure and Maurus' group pressed forward over the fallen, flanked by the snarling druids, hacking and pushing, each glimpse of blood thrilling and heartening to Maurus. A heavy blow to the inside of his thigh made him stumble, but he caught himself on his axe and lashed out with his armored fist, making the offending fel orc's head snap back. As he brought his axe around, up into the stomach of the orc, he saw a hissing stick of dynamite flying through the air toward the ballista. The fel orcs leapt away, but too slowly and vanished in the burst of light and sound and force that destroyed the ballista.

Though the orcs near the explosion were thrown off balance, the rest increased the pressure, even as more explosions began sound along the wall. Maurus barely angled his head so a stab impacted the side of his head instead of the weaker chain mail along his neck. Head ringing and with little room to move, he brought his head down sharply and the orc stumbled back, though his helmet saved him from the spikes on Maurus' own helmet.

"One," Maurus growled. In a shout he added, turning to the left: "Hurry! Next one!"

Widget had eschewed her gun for her explosives. Another boom sounded and the ballista to the right of the one Widget had just blown up came apart in a shower of metal and wooden splinters. Shortly afterward she threw another stick of dynamite, this time to the left, where fel orc archers stood, with fel orc warriors on either side defending them against Maurus' group. Maurus felt a surge of panic as he saw one of them pick up the explosive, but it exploded before he could throw it.

"Kill the goblins!"

The ragged shout was as loud as it was surprising, coming from the hulking fel orc who had somehow gotten up and made his way to the archers to the left. Maurus barely had time to see the orc was pointing straight at him before the enemy archers, just twenty feet away, shot through the gap Widget's explosive had created. He managed to angle himself and turn his head before the arrows hit. That allowed him to see a shaft bury itself in the crook of Mathias' sword arm, even as he felt maybe a dozen impacts. Two almost stunned him as they rang against his helmet and the rest felt like heavy punches, even through his armor.

"Calen! Fix Mathias!" he shouted, stepping in front of the man and shoving a fel orc back with the length of his axe. "You're attracting too much attention, Widget," he added over his shoulder. The slight shift in weight could have been a shrug or a nod.

The fel orcs weren't filling hole in the melee, pressing on the sides of Maurus' group but allowing the archers line of sight over the mutilated corpses along the wall. He was about to lunge forward to punish the archers, but three distinct figures among the archers made his blood ran cold. For the first time since the magical blood lust had been cast on him, he remembered just how dangerous this was and fear gripped him as the three fel orcs, backs bent and almost completely hidden by black cloaks, summoned sickly green fire.

"Widget, off!" he barked quickly and almost immediately felt her weight vanish from his back, even as the fireballs came flying at him. He thanked the spirits that the warlocks hadn't been used immediately and that he had spotted them in time. Going against every instinct he felt, he whirled around, presenting his back to the fire.

"Fireshields, front!" he barked, just before the flames impacted the shield on his back. There was a hiss and he could feel the fierce heat, spilling over the edges of his shield and paining him even through the shield and armor. He took stock of his own group in the short moment before he turned back to the warlocks and archers. Most still stood, feet planted on the blood-slick stones, lashing out against the throng of red and black but his heart sank when he couldn't see Tayo and Lakjin. Two orcs and a troll, Karzur, Dogul and Ayagi, stepped forward, forming a ring around Widget and raising their wide shields, looking bruised and weary but determined. There were also soldiers he didn't recognize and more were coming over the wall by the ladder he'd ridden to the walls, a sign that they'd just about secured their little foothold on the wall.

"Kill the warlocks!" he roared. Another barrage of arrows stopped him from simply charging ahead, and the cry from behind him told him the arrows had taken down someone, but he had not time to turn to check who. The warlocks gathered their power again, but this time, it came out in a red mist that flowed into the fel orcs that came out in front of them. The ululating cry he'd heard in the first skirmish and once more in one of the smaller skirmishes during the last week, went up from the fel orcs.

"For the Horde!" Maurus shouted, feeling his throat ache with it the power he put into it. He hurried forward, unwilling to give the frothing fel orcs any time to gather momentum. To his relief, his soldiers followed along with him, taking up the battle cry. The red mist still tinged the air and it stung his nose and ached in his mouth, but it also sent a faint flame through his body as he met the first frenzied fel orc. Red froth stained her mouth, which wasn't covered by her black, iron helmet and her eyes were wide and rabid. Her two axes whirled, aimed at his armpit and his neck and even with the half-dodge he managed, the blows rang against his shoulder and he was sure the mail would have torn had the axe hit. She reversed the swing, but Maurus' axe was already moving, with the strength of his arms and much of his momentum.

Her helmet clattered against the stone, two feet from where her head fell, coming to rest against the wall.

There was not time to feel satisfaction though, or even to breathe. The orcs threw themselves at Maurus and the others with wild abandon, even more reckless than before. Maurus hacked and dodged and blocked, his attempted charge reduced to a crawl, not aided by the treacherous footing, which only got worse with each death.

Another cloud of arrows hit the swirling melee, loosed with no regard for friend or foe and Maurus ground his teeth, half in pain and half in disgust at the cowardly tactic. He took a hit that numbed his left hip in order to push his enemy in front of a ball of fel fire that would have seared him even through his armor and took a step forward as the scorched orc crumbled, seeing the archers turn their bows to the sky at their leader's command. Their targets were the wyverns falling silently from the sky, but they never reached the archers or the ballista behind them. Maurus' eyes widened as otherworldly roars sounded from the other side of the wall and five huge, ghostly drakes soared up to meet the wyverns in a whirl of hazy purple and blue.

Pain exploded in Maurus' elbow as another enemy took advantage of his distraction, though at least the axe had hit the plate on the outside and not the mail on the inside of his arm. For a moment unable to lift his axe properly, he instead lashed out with his half-numb left arm, catching the offending orc across his face with the back of his plated fist, with enough force to stun. Falling back on instinct, he lowered his head and charged, bowling over the frenzied orc at the same time that he managed to fumble his hand back on the length of his axe.

Mathias appeared again at his right, illuminated by a burst of golden light that pained him if Maurus judged his eyes correctly, but Calen's spell seemed to have even more effect on the orcs. In spite of their suicidal ferocity, they reeled again at the spell and Maurus took the opportunity to move forward, flanked by the blood elf and the forsaken. Another stick of dynamite, trailing sparks, sailed over Maurus' head and eased their advance as well and they regained their momentum, struggling through the fel orcs, their flanks guarded by the orcs and trolls.

The enemy archers were drawing back, but unbeknownst to them, more Horde was pressing in from the other side, nearing the ballista from the south and Maurus smiled a cruel smile behind his helmet. The warlocks seemed less worried, remaining where they were and keeping up a steady stream of flame and dark magic, seemingly unconcerned that much of it missed, hit their own or was somehow intercepted by Calen.

"Useless maggots," the fel orc leader growled. "I'll show you how it's done!"

Maurus grinned as he saw the leader approach through the spraying blood of another dead fel orc.

"I'll hold him. Go around," he said, just loud enough that the ones closest to him could hear. He raised his voice and addressed the leader: "Found your guts, coward?"

The large fel orc's eyes glinted with hate and he shifted his grip on his axe, which was almost the same size as Maurus' own. He didn't recklessly charge though. Instead he rolled his shoulders and nodded at Maurus before stomping forward, flanked by more fel orcs, ones that hadn't been magically frenzied.

Maurus' first swing met the fel orc leader's weapon with a loud clang, pushed of course by the angle of the weapon. He had to step back and lift his head to avoid the quick return swing of the axe and he felt the displaced air as it passed under his throat. As the opening blows were exchanged, the rest of Maurus' comrades flowed around him. Mathias darted forward, his sword flashing toward the fel orc on the right, the motion worryingly stiff and Calen led with a burst of light that for an instant looked like shining hammer, sending his enemy reeling back. Another crack of Widget's rifle announced she'd either used up her explosives or, more likely, decided to save some for later.

Maurus' axe scraped across the flagstones before he swung it up at his enemy, missing widely but easily reversing the swing. This time, it clanged off the thick, heavy shoulderplates that the fel orc angled toward the swing and the blade passed above the orc's head. The orc thrust his axe straight ahead and the wicked spike on top of the weapon struck Maurus' upper leg, though he managed to angle his leg so it hit the plates and not the mail on the inner thigh. It still went instantly numb except for the throbbing and the fel orc wasn't done. As Maurus' axe came down, this time with the spike aimed at the orc's head, the orc drove his axe up into the mail covering Maurus' throat, too slowly to pierce it but with enough force that Maurus coughed in startled pain, stumbling back, the swing of his axe missing the orc by inches.

Seeing the orc begin his follow-up swing, Maurus took another step back, hoof crunching through the hand of a corpse and for a moment he thanked the Earth Mother that his folk were so massive, because he might have slipped had he been any smaller. He raised his axe diagonally in front of him, waiting for the orc and catching his breath. Around them the rest of Maurus' group was struggling ahead over the corpse strewn stone, having more trouble with the fel orcs than Maurus had hoped, the frenzied ones hurling themselves recklessly at Maurus' soldiers while the rest seemed to be trying to simply keep them trapped. It didn't help that the warlocks had shifted tactics. Karsi staggered and was overcome by a flurry of axeblows from the frenzied orcs to the right and many of the warriors were faltering, looking even more tired than before. Widget, Dogul and Thathi were shivering, looking unnaturally terrified but unable to find any escape, taking valuable fighters out of the battle for the time being.

Maurus took another step back. The fel orc leader hesitated, and Maurus realized he wasn't going to be so easily drawn away. His gaze flicked from his struggling comrades to the warlocks and the archers, who were still shooting into the melee, to orcs winding the ballista, and back to the orc leader. He snarled.

"Cowards and tricksters, the lot of you," he roared. "There isn't a drop of honor in you!"

That got him some attention.

"Stupid, doomed pup," the leader growled, stomping forward at the same time that Maurus was proven correct by the number of archers taking aim at him. Before any of them managed to do anything though, he saw a flash of shadow fly from one of the warlocks and found himself unable to dodge. Where the darkness touched, it seeped straight through his armor and he felt fatigue flow into his muscles, turning them cold and leaden. He sagged under the weight of his armor and his axe and the volley of arrows made him take another step back, teeth grinding in pain and fury.

Stubbornly holding on to his weapon, he moved forward, meeting the fel orc leader again. He was better prepared for the skill of the orc this time, trading several blows with him, but he realized with shock that the weakening curse had evened out his and the fel orc's strength and that might have given the orc the edge he needed. He kept his posture low and hunched, shielding the places where he was only protected by mail, but even his plate bent under the orc's strength and though he got hits in, the orc seemed to shrug them off more easily than he did himself.

Miraculously, he got in a blow, denting the side of the fel orc's helmet and sending him staggering back. He pressed the attack, getting in two blows to the orc's right leg before raising his axe over his head to slam it down on the staggering orc. He missed, the orc stepping aside and swinging his axe in a wild, overhead blow. Maurus caught the axe head above the shaft of his own axe and pushed back, but the orc recovered too quickly, dodging one swing and catching the return on his shoulderplate, the spike on the back of Maurus' axe sinking into the plate but apparently doing no damage.

' _Those are stupidly thick,'_ Maurus thought desperately, ripping his axe free before the orc could pull him off balance. It turned out to be a useless gesture. The orc struck, putting all his weight behind a stab of his axe. On top of the weight of the axe Maurus had so desperately tugged away from the orc, it was enough to overbalance him and he felt his weight shift, his left hoof lifting in an instinctual attempt to regain his balance.

The orc lifted his axe over his head, cruel triumph glowing in his eyes, rising to his full height. The moment seemed to last forever. The only consolation was that Maurus could see his surviving comrades, about three fourths of their original number, were gaining the upper hand. Calen's hammer crushed the skull of one warlock and Widget were taking aim at another as Mathias sliced through the longbow and the throat of one of the archers.

Maurus noted the scarlet bit of ruined armor on the orc's chest, just before the axe began to fall and remembered Widget's shot. His left hand lifted from the handle of his axe and somehow, his fingers closed on the handle just below the head of the orc's axe. He pulled sideways on the weapon and kicked out with his left hoof, already in the air and felt incredible satisfaction as his pull and his kick resulted in denting chest plate and cracking bones.

The orc coughed and let go of his axe, stumbling backwards from the force of the kick and tripping over the outstretched leg of a green orc so mutilated that Maurus didn't recognize him. Maurus himself was falling too, but he managed at the last moment to catch himself on the haft of the axes he held, pushing himself back up like they were simple walking sticks.

The fel orc leader was getting up, despite his obvious agony and Maurus tossed him his axe before gripping his own with both hands. The fel orc's eyes followed the tossed axe as it came at him lengthwise, making it easy to catch, radiating stunned surprise as he raised his hands to catch the weapon. Fixated on his own weapon, he failed to react when Maurus brought down his axe in an overhead blow that cleaved through the thin plates and mail covering his throat at an angle and opened both windpipe and jugular in a spray of dark blood.

Maurus bared his teeth in vicious satisfaction, ripped out his axe and stomped his wide hoof down on the orc's already dented helmet with all his weight behind it, halving its volume with a wet crunch.

"Good fight," he growled, feeling an odd mix of disgust, respect and accomplishment.

There was a loud, metallic twanging sound and Maurus' head snapped up, eyes darting out west, somehow finding the flaming ballista bolt just before it plunged into the closest zeppelin like a spear of flame.

The first one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now you're as up to date as I am. I hope to get the next one out within the month. Maybe sooner.
> 
> Again, let me know what you think. I'd love to hear it.


	10. Crash and Burn

_I don't own the franchise and I am getting rid of my games soon, because I won't be playing WoW again. Good things come to an end. But not this fic. That will take a while more!_

* * *

 

Chasing Through Hell

Crash and Burn

The sense of victory, of strength Maurus had felt a moment ago went out like a candle and the chaos on the wall faded into the background, his attention fixing on the fire blooming from the point where the ballista bolt had hit. His heart went cold, his lungs refused to draw breath and his eyes stung as the fire spread with incredible speed, eating through the zeppelin's outer casing and revealing the charring, skeleton-like framework beneath, flying in the face of all Widget's claims that the zeppelins had gotten safer over the years. His grip on his axe slackened, the weapon suddenly weighing twice as much, as the front end of the zeppelin dipped and the massive craft began to lose altitude. It plummeted toward the army below, trailing flaming wreckage and dark figures which could only be passengers who'd rather fling themselves off than crash beneath the flames. They fell in ones and twos, cloaks and robes fluttering around them like colorful, lame wings that did little to slow them.

A small voice in the back of his head insisted that there were more zeppelins, that the goblins were notoriously unreliable, that it was impossible to say which zeppelin really would be the first one the wall. But those thoughts were almost completely drowned out by the guilt and sorrow clawing a hole in his stomach, a twofold agony stemming from failing both the entire zeppelin and Arianna in particular.

Something heavy and snarling hit him and there was a sharp tug on his right pauldron. On pure, unthinking reflex, he brought his arms close to his sides, shielding the parts of his arms only covered by mail. It was a good thing he did. The force behind the repeated stabs dented his plate and would have rent apart any mail.

He whirled, trying to dislodge the orc and saw that Zrahi, Gor, Crava, Javyn and Zilja had stepped in, shoulder to shoulder, to hold the frothing orcs back while he stared stupidly at the crashing zeppelin. They'd been pushed back so there were only a few feet between him and them and the fel orcs had forced a hole in their formation, through which the orc clinging to his back had gotten through. The pain of the blows against his back and neck woke Maurus from his stupor and the sight of Crava falling, still laying about himself with his axe even as he crumbled to the floor, made the icy, numbing grief in Maurus' body turn to fire. Rage ran like molten lead through his body and his lips peeled back from gritted teeth.

He lifted his left hand and groped over his shoulder. Strong jaws and sharp fangs closed around his pointer finger and he jerked his hand back, thankful for the chain and plates of steel on it, before trying again. This time he felt his fingers close around the uncovered head of the orc and he heaved while abruptly stopping the spin he'd been in. He felt a sharp snap reverberate through his arm and his muscles screamed as he pulled the orc over his head and sent him flying over the heads of Jayvn and Zilja. The orc crashed into his comrades, knocking over several of them and the wicked blade he had in place of his left hand slashed into the face of another, making him reel back with a howl. Despite the rage surging through Maurus, there was an odd clarity underneath his emotions and in the moment of confusion, he reached out and pulled Crava back, out of the reach of the fel orcs' weapons. Crava moaned as he was moved, one limp arm drawing a trail of blood along the stones while his other arm still held his axe in a vise-like grip.

"Drunnya! Heal!" Maurus shouted. Even as he did, he placed his health stone in Crava's free hand and squeezed the hand closed. He only paused long enough to see the flash of light as the stone disintegrated before rising and gripping his axe tightly. An explosion made him glance to the side to see that the ballista was simply gone and Mathias and the rest were drawing back, struggling to avoid being overwhelmed by the fel orcs. He felt strangely cheated, though the idle thought vanished in the rolling rage he felt and he turned his focus completely on the fel orcs in front of him.

"To me," he roared and stepped forward. Crava's comrades had taken advantage of the moment to close ranks again, though they readily stepped aside for Maurus. His loud and furious assault drew the attention of a good number of the fel orcs, giving his comrades the moment they needed to close in again and more warriors Maurus didn't know joined them from the side where the ladder still stood.

He hacked and sliced, roaring out his fury and pain, ignoring what strikes the enemies got past the comrades flanking him. When a large orc in ornate grunt's armor began giving his group orders he felt a slight burst of relief, readily letting Commander Krunk take over. The confusion and the sheer force of the Horde's initial assault had kept the fel orcs on the back foot, but they had recovered as the last remains of blood lust evaporated from Maurus and his warriors. The battle blurred into noise, blood and the weight of his axe as they fought to keep their foothold.

Slowly, the Horde was pushed back toward the merlon. The demonic strength and heedless frenzy of the fel orcs had become somehow more focused, directed by orders bellowed in bestial voices from further along the wall. Warlocks and archers moved along the back of the fel orcs, sending arrows, fire and dark magic into the Horde warriors, weakening the line for their fellows.

Even through the haze of rage Maurus kept himself in, he began to worry. More Horde kept coming onto the wall, but the area along the merlon was already filled with those wounded that the healers managed to recover and if the Horde warriors kept getting pushed back, they would trample the wounded before going over the merlon themselves.

The arrival of the zeppelins changed the course of the battle and completely justified the importance that had been put on destroying the ballistae. With an upward swing of his axe, Maurus sent a fel orc stumbling back into the orcs behind her and then a shower of lights and arrows flew over his head, the arrows bringing down a score of fel orcs while the bolts of magic exploded into flashes of fire, lightning and ice, cutting down more enemies and weakening those that survived the barrage. Commander Krunk roared in triumph and the rest of the warriors took up the cry as they fought their way forward, emboldened by the casters that poured onto the wall.

Maurus wanted to turn, to run back to the zeppelins and search through the casters in the vain hope that he'd find Arianna. But he pushed away the urge and advanced with his soldiers, striking out with strength born of rage and the blood lust the shamans wove over him. Mathias had found his side again, fighting with stiff but efficient movements, eyes shining with pale light and dark intent. On his right, Javyn and the rest were holding that side and further to the right, Calen fought, the bursts of holy light still giving the group an advantage.

"Push the curs over the edge," Maurus growled as the fel orcs began to buckle under the renewed assault. He saw the warlocks slink back toward the stairs that led down into one of the courtyards. "Let  _them_ fall and break."

He felt grim satisfaction as they accomplished just that, forcing the fel orcs back too quickly for them all to make it to the wide stairs along the walls. The orcs furthest back tumbled, screaming, down to the courtyard below.

Maurus led the the way down one of the wide staircases, over stone steps made treacherous by the blood and the dead. The fel orcs, seeming oddly small suddenly, were falling back along the length of the wall, retreating down stairs to the courtyard or withdrawing toward the center of the fortress. On the closest other staircase, Commander Krunk and his elites hacked their way down, faster and with much more ease than Maurus and his comrades. The Horde casters and hunters stayed on the wall, raining down death into the courtyard, keeping their counterparts among the fel orcs from doing too much damage, though they were hampered in turn by their targets' retaliation and the projectiles coming from the inner wall.

As Maurus and his unit stepped down the last steps and began fighting across the courtyards, he realized that the fel orcs, for all their ferocity, were more coordinated than he'd thought. Not only were they managing a controlled retreat now, but they were taking care of those wounded they could. Behind the fel orcs fighting him, a number of robed orcs, different from the warlocks, helped the few fel orc who had the worst wounds while the wounded, but still mobile fel orcs were making for the gates in the second wall, retreating to the inner courtyard and the main body of the Citadel.

Not all the wounded retreated. Several of the orcs Maurus managed to wound stepped back from the front line, only to return a little later and it was only when he saw the flash of green that he realized why: Health stones.

Still, the fel orcs were falling back. Maurus' unit fought along the left flank of the spearhead that was Commander Krunk and his elites and slowly, the Horde moved across the courtyard. It was like digging through stone, but suddenly, the last of the fel orcs broke, sprinting for the gate right behind them as fire streamed over their heads to burn and distract the Horde. Some fel orcs still fell, but the rest made it through the gate just before the portcullis fell, separating the Horde from the fel orcs.

The courtyard quieted, though the moans of the wounded and dying still floated through the air and the sounds of battle around the Citadel still reached them, the distant clash of steel, screams and frequent booms serving as reminders that it was far from over. Maurus lifted his gaze from his bloody axe to the battlements above, fearing, once again, what would come down from above,

"Back up, bring your wounded. Short break," Krunk ordered, his voice carrying easily through the relative quiet and most of the people in the courtyard drew back to the outer half of the courtyard. Healers were already at work along the outer wall, treating the wounded.

Maurus slumped down a short distance from a wounded troll, his muscles feeling like lead, as fresh Horde soldiers came down the stairs and streamed past him. Hunters and offensive casters followed, their eyes on the battlements above, ready to deter anyone planning to shoot down into the courtyard.

Now that the battle didn't demand all his attention, he ached, though what filled the most was how heavy and empty he felt. Sluggishly, he took stock of his comrades. Mathias was standing by his side, tense and restless, his gaze wandering between the inner gate, the top of the outer wall and Maurus himself. Their remaining comrades stood or sat in a loose circle around them. Crava was still missing and hopefully he was still alive, somewhere on the outer wall. He wasn't the only one Maurus didn't see. Almost a fourth of the soldiers he had gone up the ladder with were missing and the armor of his remaining comrades looked like someone had gone over them with heavy hammers and poured a bucket of blood over them.

Widget was missing too, and Maurus looked around quickly, feeling a burst of frantic worry that subsided just as quickly when he found her with the other goblins close to the gate, ringed by seven warriors in full plate, with heavy shields. A small hint of worry remained because the goblins were looking through their packs, doubtlessly after explosives.

Widget looked up and waved him over. He glanced at the gate, swallowed and laid his axe walking over, receiving nods from the warriors as he came close and unslung his shield from his back.

"Time to put all that steel to more use," Widget said brightly. "Shield's up."

Sighing, he bent down a bit and formed up with the other warriors, raising his shield above his head so it created a dome with the others' shields over the goblins in the middle and with that they hurried forward, entering the archway containing the portcullis. He hadn't missed the holes above him, but right now, he didn't dare look up, once again fearing an arrow or worse through his eye.

His heart was beating quickly and heavily in his chest when they stopped at the portcullis, worried by both the threat of the fel orcs and the threat of the goblin's explosives. He looked steadily forward, eyes scanning for any fel orc with a spear, bow or a handful of flame as the goblins set to work. He was surprised to see no threat beyond the gate, merely glimpses of the fel orcs regrouping and the goblins had no trouble with attaching their red blocks along the sides of the portcullis. He adjusted his stance to shield one of the two that clambered up the gate, attaching more of the blocks about halfway to the top and still nothing menaced them.

Before he knew it, they were hustling away from the gate again, trailing long fuses and Maurus hurried back to his unit as Krunk shouted orders. The fuses were lit at the same time that a barrage of magic and arrows soared up towards the battlements over the inner gate, covering the druids, again in bird form, as they rose along the inner wall.

The explosions rocked the inner wall and tore apart the portcullis, leaving only a few jagged pieces of metal behind, jutting from the top of the gate like teeth. The fresh warriors pressed toward the newly opened way, preceded by a few thrown explosives and a salvo of arrows. Soon the sound of battle rang through the courtyard again as the goblins spread and went back to their units.

Maurus sighed, slinging his shield on his back again as Widget waddled over to him and plopped down. She sighed as well, though hers was half-way content and he felt his hackles rise. She glanced at him, opening her mouth, but apparently changed her mind and closed it again.

Quietly, Maurus conferred with the others to find out the whereabouts of their missing members and confirmed that at least six, Javyn among them, were dead. As he did, he kept glancing at the casters around him, feeling a sinking disappointment each time.

When Stone Guard Stok'ton declared the break over, Maurus dragged himself up, turning to the gate. Commander Krunk had gone in along with the fresh soldiers and the fighting was happening on top of and past the gate. The courtyard, dotted with corpses and splattered with blood, was a dreadful sight, but the mangled bodies of orcs, tauren and trolls also made it easy to summon rage, so he could push aside the draining sadness. He gripped his axe with both hands, stoking the angry fires in his body, steeling himself in preparation for going back into the battle.

Something tapped against his hand and he glanced down at Widget. Beneath her round helmet, her eyes crinkled and she was smiling widely again. He felt his jaw tense and his teeth grind against each other, his anger unreasonably turning towards her for having such an expression on her face.

She pointed and he jerked his head around, at first not seeing anything but more casters and warriors. Then he spotted the dirtied, soot-stained red robes and the sleek helmet, noticed the gliding walk that was so different from the movements of the orcs and trolls walking across the flagstones.

"Arianna," he called, loud and rough, straightening, his firm grip on his axe slipping so the weapon came down to hang limply along his side. His stomach suddenly didn't feel so empty, his body felt lighter and he stopped so desperately holding on to his rage, no longer needing it just to stand anymore.

Arianna's gaze roamed the top of the inner wall before it lowered to meet his and as she steered straight toward him, he was so focused on her glowing green eyes that he nearly didn't notice the almost naked, pale-skinned, winged demon sauntering along behind her. Right now though, he couldn't care less about the succubus. He crossed the distance between them in a few long strides before reaching out and enveloping Arianna, crushing her to his chest. Despite barely feeling her through his thick armor, he was very aware of the great contrast between his own body, huge and thickly limbed and her short, thin frame, her helmeted head only coming up to just under his throat. But still, she seemed to fit there.

"You're not exactly comfortable." The words were dry, muffled and a little strained, but there was a hint of relief in them and he felt a faint touch through the mail along his throat. Then there was a slight push on his chest. "And you're covered in blood."

He released Arianna and took a step back, the smile behind his helmet turning a little crooked as he saw that the blood from his armor had rubbed off on her helmet and clothes.

"Not mine," he said, his voice still a little rough. He was about to continue when he noticed the group they'd fought alongside on the wall pass by them. In the center of that group was a tight cluster of people in robes, casters who'd joined them.

They couldn't just stand around and he glanced at the warriors behind him. His comrades were standing, ready and restless. They'd formed into a loose ring again, and trolls, forsaken and orcs in colorful robes had joined the two shamans, Drunnya and Shayla in the middle of the formation. He turned back to Arianna and said: "Well, join your fellows."

She snorted, but passed him without protest and he knew without looking that she would be right behind him. As she passed, he looked properly at the succubus for the first time and he felt his fur stand on end. She could have been Arianna's sister, if it hadn't been for the demonic features, reminding him of his strange nightmare, though she was curvier, less angular than Arianna and her demeanor showed none of Arianna's primness. Her hips and tail swung in a way that made Payta's walk yesterday seem subtle and as she passed him, she gave him an intrigued, sultry look and briefly touched his arm as she passed. Just having the succubus behind him made him uneasy, but it trouble him further that he felt an undeniable heat at her touch and the alien expression on the familiar face, a heat he couldn't wholly blame on the succubus' aura.

He was almost grateful for the sullen muttering that rose from the soldiers around him. It gave him something more urgent to focus on instead of the swirl of emotions that Arianna's reappearance and the succubus had drawn forth.

"Why'd you bring that? I doubt the whore can track," Mathias spat from beside Maurus.

"She can fly," Arianna responded tightly, after hesitating slightly. Maurus though he heard a minute quiver in her voice when she added: "We're lucky I had second thoughts before boarding."

Her answer, and her tone, made Maurus swallow thickly. Mathias snorted, but didn't respond and Maurus was glad he relented and not really disappointed at Ash's absence. As much as he wanted to find the dreadlord, he couldn't deny a certain relief at not having a way to track him right at that moment. He didn't know what Mathias would do if the trail led one way and they were ordered another. Neither did he know what he would or should do, if Mathias pressed the issue.

The muttering didn't stop though and Maurus realized he had to shut it down before anyone worked themselves up like Guth's men had in Ashenvale.

"Shut it!" he barked, voice loud and unyielding. He pointed with his axe at the ruined gate. Already, Horde soldiers were hurrying through, marching shoulder to shoulder. "We have better things to do than squabble."

The unit quieted and they followed the flow of Horde soldiers, passing beneath the broken teeth of the gate and through the tunnel-like arch which was dotted with troubling dark holes, before coming out into the inner courtyard and Maurus felt his stomach roll with sudden nausea, his skin crawling with a sensation like cold maggots despite the heat of the peninsula. The inner courtyard was huge, black with blood and the main Citadel at its center was a huge and solid stronghold, rising high above him in vaguely round tiers. Great spikes of stone and what looked like enormous tusks jutted from the walls, giving it the appearance of a colossus covered in spines. The two gates visible from this side were easily wide enough for eight orcs walking shoulder to shoulder and looked like dark, yawning maws, sending shivers down Maurus' spine. The architecture was undeniably orcish, but harsher, starker, with none of the rounded shapes and warm wood that softened the orcish buildings in Azeroth. Desiccated corpses and strings of bones and skulls hung from walls and outcroppings, competing for space with the pale banners displaying a scarlet hand dripping with blood. Trophies and banners weren't unusual for orcs, nor for any of the Horde except the blood elves and the forsaken, but the corpses and bones along the walls here were a world apart from those of the Horde. Where the trophies of the Horde were carefully selected and treated, turning each into a piece of art, the ones along the Citadel had only seen the most rudimentary of preparation, the bones and skulls seemingly having been gnawed clean and strung together and the corpses having just been set up after, or even before, death.

The battle around the foreboding Citadel was even fiercer than it had been along the outer walls. The Horde soldiers pushed fiercely against their enemies, who had been bolstered by a large number of demons. Fel guards, the giants Maurus had fought in Ashenvale, rose above the small-looking fel orcs, holding up much of the front line and allowing many of the fel orcs to draw back to the Citadel while fel hounds snapped at the ankles of the Horde soldiers, making any overeager advance risky. Blasts of magic and shimmering balls of light intermittently lit up parts of the battlefield and there were sudden flashes of light where magic was countered by casters and magically reinforced armor. Arrows sped through the air as archers took whatever shots they could, many of the arrows coming from almost invisible murder-holes along the walls.

Past the west side of the main Citadel, across the area where the ground dipped down to the level of the central gate of the outer walls, Maurus thought he could make out silver, blue and purple, the colors of the alliance that were attacking from the south. On the closest inner walls the Horde soldiers, druids and warriors, had almost defeated their opponents, though the fights up there were still intense and high in the air, ghostly drakes darted around in what looked almost like a dance, fighting wyverns, gryphpons and hippogryphs.

Stone Guard Stok'Ton barked out an order and led Maurus and the other new arrivals to the left, toward the flank that was struggling against the deadly combination of fel orcs, demon giants and casters. The latter was a mix of different types, one in blood red robes, with pauldrons of horn or bone and skull-like helmets, while the rest wore obscuring, dark robes and seemed to billow like smoke. Like Maurus had seen forsaken or troll priests look, once or twice. No matter their appearance, their magic was devastating where it reached, blasts of fire or shadow making their victims writhe and retreat in pain or panic that the fel guards took full advantage of.

"Clear a way!"Stok'ton bellowed and the soldiers ahead drew back, creating a gap in their lines for the arriving soldiers. Maurus howled in unison with the others as the charge took them into the demons, who hadn't expected the counterattack and he drove his axe down into the shoulder of a demon who had yet to pull his own blade from a dead orc. It howled in pain, but didn't fall and instead swung its sword up towards Maurus' face, only to jerk back as something black lashed over Maurus' shoulder and into its face with a crack.

Shocked to realize that Arianna's succubus had just distracted the fel guard, Maurus jerked his axe back and struck again, this time hitting just beneath the giant's helmet, cutting almost entirely through its neck. The demon gurgled in pain, falling to its knees as it crumbled into dust and Maurus ground his teeth at the unfairness of it. Once again, the Horde was losing lives while the demons escaped their deaths.

He hardly had time for that idle, angry thought though, because they had to maintain their momentum.

"Left one, Arianna," he barked, almost biting off her name. Utterly ignoring the demon to his left and the flash of gold and lightning on his right, Maurus met the strike of the demon right in front of him. He caught the broad blade of the demon just beneath the head of his axe.

The demon pushed on Maurus, keeping his attention as the demon on his left aimed its axe at him, but it turned translucent half-way through the swing, which passed through Maurus with no more effect than a slight tingle. Mathias stepped through the banished demon and stabbed his sword up, with expert aim, beneath the jaw of Maurus' opponent.

Baring his teeth in a fierce smile, Maurus pushed the limp demon backward and swung his axe at the next enemy, a fel orc that seemed unprepared for the axe sweeping through the ash cloud where the demon had been. Stepping forward along with Mathias and Calen, with the rest of his unit tight around him, he focused on hammering through the opposition while his comrades protected his flanks. Arianna and the casters chanted continuously behind them, carving holes in the opposition with deadly strikes of magic and weakening the defenders with more subtle spells.

Again, the defenders of the Citadel were pushed back. It was a slow, grueling fight, but inch by bloodstained inch, the main Citadel came closer. As it did, the demons made up more and more of the defenders, the fel orcs falling back behind them and vanishing into the massive maws of the Citadel. Despite the progress, Maurus only felt his rage and unease steadily increase. It wasn't right, that the fel orcs were retreating, that the demons were doing so much damage without truly losing something. But there was something else that deepened his unease.

The were getting close to one entrance, clashing almost exclusively with demons by then, when a voice rose over the battle din.

"Is this it, Bladefist?" Maurus glanced toward the sound and found the wolfs-head mask of Nazgrel himself, Advisor to Thrall and leader of the attack, where the fighting was bloodiest. His voice was full of fury, scorn and loathing, as he thundered: "Is this what you sold your souls for?" He flung aside a demon. "Damned your people?" A lance of searing lightning leaped from his free hand and burned a hole straight through an enemy warlock. "The Legion has made you weak!"

The naked hatred and the unflinching strength in the commanders voice sent a ripple of confidence through the Horde soldiers and they pressed forward harder, as Maurus finally found the cause of his unease. Putting together Kargath Bladefist's reputation with what he'd heard of storming fortified positions, Maurus couldn't believe it could be so easy to take the stronghold. And now that he thought about it, many of the fel orcs hadn't shown quite the strength he thought they possessed, though that could, maybe, be chalked up to the defenders being the smaller, weaker orcs. But that didn't make sense. He was hardly a great tactician, he was barely keeping his unit together, but it seemed to him that surrendering the walls couldn't be a sound tactic.

Though he couldn't see the faces of the others, there was a tension in the air that gave him the impression that he wasn't the only one thinking those thoughts.

He could do nothing but keep fighting though. They were committed, had bled too much by now to simply withdraw and they had to take the Citadel to ever have a chance of traversing the peninsula. He batted aside a blade that one of the remaining orcs had instead of a hand and smacked her in the head with the knob of his axe, feeling too-brittle bone, courtesy of Arianna's curses, completely cave in beneath the helmet. He stomped forward, toward the shadowy form of one of the fel orc casters, letting his axe carve into the chest of a shadowy fel orc, sending him tumbling to the ground just before he could unleash a handful of shadow at Mathias. He tugged his axe from the body as it became clearer, the hazy shape congealing into a solid form and was about to turn to the next enemy when he noticed the faint, green light appear on the stone beneath the corpse.

The grooves in the stone, which had almost vanished beneath all the blood, revealed themselves with the faint light. They weren't just the seams between stones or random scars from the long years but instead swirls and symbols that was encompassed by a modified circle. The bottom of Maurus' stomach seemed to drop out as he saw the same weak light spring up around him and heard gasps from behind him, two of them sounding like Arianna.

Glancing quickly back, he saw more circles coming to life throughout the courtyard. Even on the inner walls and to the south, by the Alliance, he could see the glow illuminate the warriors from below and he could smell the corruption wafting up, like smoke from a fire. Feeling like he was breathing in burning embers, he suddenly realized he'd felt the same utter revulsion in the caves beyond Demon Fall Canyon.

He wanted to turn, ask Arianna what was going on, but forced the impulse aside, turning his axe for his next attack.

Then a deep, deep rumble boomed up from somewhere beneath Maurus, erupting from the gate ahead like it the Citadel itself making it.

He stopped what he was doing and he wasn't the only one. Except for the fel hounds, which scampered off like frightened rats, everyone froze, fel guard, fel orc and Horde alike as the ground trembled and the air shifted. The sound grew, a deep reverberating howl, torn painfully from something old and huge and hate-filled, wordless but as solid and undeniable as the pressure before a thunderstorm, before it began fading again, echoes still ringing off the walls. Maurus could think of nothing that could make such a noise nor what could inflict such agony as there was in the howl and he shuddered. Around him, the courtyard remained frozen, everyone seeming rooted to their spots, even the demons, as the howl rose again, growing even louder, reaching into the sky.

Maurus looked up, and saw the dark, reddish sky above, with the sluggish streaks of lighting and greenish auroras, twist in a few dozen spots, like still water that suddenly swirled into a whirlpool. The rest of the courtyard did as he and then despairing cries rose from many of the Horde soldiers while the fel guards and remaining fel orcs cheered in guttural voices.

He just had time to notice that many of those that wailed were the older orcs, trolls and tauren, elites and veterans, before he saw the first glint of green-white fire appear in the middle of one of the vortexes in the sky. Another deep, raw howl rose from below as shrill whistles came from above and his heart shot into his throat, pounding furiously.

Dragging his eyes from the meteors streaking down, he managed to deflect an axe and shove the attacker aside before shouting: "Forward!"

Around them, orders flew through the air, most of them to the effect of "seek cover'. But one stood out, Advisor Nazgrel bellowing: "Break down their doors. Get inside!"

With panic lending Maurus strength and resolution, he lunged forward, toward the wide opening of the nearest entrance to the main Citadel, despite the thick portcullis that had fallen some point in the last few moments. He crashed into a fel guard, sending it stumbling and hurtled through another that Arianna banished, making a third leap back to avoid his axe. As the unit hurried forward, he felt a dozen impacts of weapons, but he ignored them as he simply used his mass to open a path away from the open ground. It was reckless and might have killed him if it hadn't been for his comrades. Mathias and the other warriors guarded his flanks while Calen's blasts of holy light blinded orcs and fel guards and Arianna's magic lashed out, weakening demons and boiling several fel orcs from within. Even the succubus forced enemies off balance, her whip cracking with expert precision.

Maurus was almost beneath the arch of the entryway when the ground shook and a blast of heat and force flowed over him. Against his better judgement, he turned and looked back out into the courtyard. Past those still standing, he saw Zulkis, Neveen, Tragkul and Kalm lay sprawled on the stone, along with several casters he couldn't name, flung to the ground by the force of the impact behind them. They were all dirtied and smeared with blood and didn't move, though he couldn't tell whether they were dazed, unconscious or dead. In a moment, it might not matter, because just behind them, black stones rose from a crater and formed into a body not quite thrice Maurus' height. Twenty-something more infernals rose from where they'd fallen and as one, the flaming monsters emitted hellish shrieks that rent through the air and felt like knives in Maurus' ears. Arianna, Calen and most of the trolls in sight cringed, free hands coming up to cover their ears, to little effect because of their helmets.

The sound and the devastation, dozens of Horde dead in a heartbeat, made Maurus' stomach lurch and his mind whirl with rage and fear.

"Fire and earth!" Maurus shouted desperately, directing his order at Shayla and Drunnya as the nearest infernal stepped forward, the blood beneath its feet sizzling and the flagstones glowing red. The two shamans reacted instantly, seemingly too stunned to think, but somehow understanding what he meant. Shayla crashed her hammer down upon the ground while Drunnya threw her arms out toward the infernal. As the stone next to Shayla heaved, pieces of rock the size of Maurus' thighs forming into a rough body, fire sprang from Drunnya's fingers, forming into a burly shape before crashing against the infernal.

The infernal's charge was slowed by the fire elemental and Shayla's earth elemental stopped it completely when it joined. As the elementals fought, the two shamans did what their opposite had done and a moment later, two more elementals were holding back the infernal.

Maurus' idea wasn't unique and plenty other shamans had already sent elementals against the other infernals. Other casters threw whatever they could at the infernals to slow them, though most of the bright blasts of magic seemed to burn off the green flames. He saw the undead he'd dubbed Speaker, his tattered, scarlet robes fluttering about him as he reached out with clawed fingers and stopped an infernal in it's tracks, binding it in chains made of light. Other warlocks stood out amongst the crowd, sending their familiars against the infernals or binding or weakening them with magic and the distinct golden-edged armor of blood elf paladins gleamed as they also threw warm light against the infernals. Arianna and Calen added their strength to that of the shamans' elementals, golden light and a flash of darkness somehow both seeming to dampen the flames.

The rest of the soldiers, warriors and druids mostly, tried desperately to adjust to the infernals' presence, while the remnants of fel orcs, fel hounds and fel guards still in the courtyard threw themselves forward, frenzied by the openings. On Maurus' left, the side Calen had been on, they had the other Horde holding up the flank, but on his right, Mathias and the other warriors had to push back against the fel guards they' rushed past.

Given a moment to think, Maurus glanced around, trying to ignore the screams and explosions and the soldiers thrown through the air by the infernals. He caught sight of Widget, not far from the infernal and the dead and wounded. She was crouched low, almost digging herself into her massive backpack, making herself even smaller than she was and from the position of her head, Maurus could see she was following the infernal's every move, except when she glanced up. Her gun lay at her feet, seemingly forgotten.

"Widget!" he shouted. He pushed himself forward, through the casters, digging into a pouch at his side. His fingers felt numb and clumsy now that he needed even the barest finesse. "Widget! Get up!"

She didn't react. As he reached her, he weighed the bomb in his fingers, the layer of slightly sticky, tar-like material it had been coated in, before taking aim. He might be terrible with throwing weapons, bows and guns, but he'd thrown plenty of stones in his life, even if this bomb was made for hands much smaller than his.

"Bomb! Get back!" he shouted as he threw. He grabbed Widget's backpack and pulled her back as the bomb sailed through the air, over the two fallen that were being helped up and back by their comrades. Three of the elementals drew back, one of the earth elementals remaining in place, wrestling with the infernal and without it. It was lucky it did, because if the infernal had taken a step forward, the bomb would have gone over its shoulder. Instead it hit and stuck right between the head and the shoulder and for a few heartbeats nothing happened. Maurus thought he could see the coating beginning to melt off the bomb and it slipped a little down the shoulder.

_'Of course it fails me now!'_ a part of him screamed furiously. The though had just formed when the bomb went off with a crack like thunder. Maurus could feel the force of the explosion like a shove to the chest and a pressure in his ears, but there was no fire from the explosion itself, only from the displaced flame of the infernal. The coal-black rocks that made up its body shattered and the flames went out with a final shriek before both the infernal and the earth elemental crumbled into a pile of scalding rock.

"Mathias!" he yelled, as another infernal charged and the remaining elementals threw themselves forward to intercept. "The bombs work! Gor, switch!"

Mathias bashed his shield into the knee of one of the fel guards and stepped back from it as it faltered, the movement stiff. Gor stepped in to fill his place, denying the demon the chance to recover, while Mathias sheathed his sword and pulled a bomb from his own belt.

Trusting Mathias to take care of this infernal, Maurus clamped a hand on Widget's shoulder and she looked up at him, eyes wide and glassy, mouth open. He didn't think he'd ever seen her that shaken, though his experience with her in combat was admittedly limited, but at least she was responding now.

"How many of those bombs do you have?" he asked urgently and she blinked. When she didn't answer, he shook her and said, with more emphasis: "How many without fuses?"

She blinked again. Another explosion, distinctly goblin somehow, sounded and some life came back in her eyes.

"Ten," she squeaked. Maurus swallowed. He had three, Mathias had three, two in a moment, and there were plenty of infernals in the courtyard. The earthshaking, agonized howl rose above the battleground again and Widget looked past Maurus. He followed her gaze and felt like his heart might burst out of his chest as his eyes confirmed his fear. More infernals appeared in the sky, trailing long tails of green fire and the twisted holes in the sky showed no signs of disappearing.

"Not enough," Widget added and Maurus had no doubt she was right. He had no idea how long the rain of infernals would last, but they would run out. Another explosion rang out and the shockwave slapped against Maurus and Widget and she would have fallen had he not had a hand on her shoulder, but when Maurus glanced up, he saw the nearest infernal on the ground, but still burning. Its legs were gone and the elementals were pounding on it, but one massive fist cracked the earth elemental and beat back the flames of the fire elementals while the other dragged it forward, seeming intent on the Horde soldiers instead of the elementals.

It raised a hand, ready to smash down on Zilja, who was dragging an unconscious mage back and Maurus sprang forward, abandoning Widget to smash his axe into the infernal's upraised arm, throwing off the blow just enough. The heat was like a furnace and he was easily more than an arms length from any flame. He smashed his axe down on the infernal's head next and it shrieked at him, seemingly angered more than affected. He managed two more blows, feeling it crack, before the elementals swarmed back and he could retreat a few steps, just in time to avoid another blow of its huge fist.

The courtyard shook when the second wave of infernals crashed to the ground and the battle seemed bleaker than ever. The inner walls were free of enemies and the fel guards and fel orcs in the courtyard were getting overwhelmed, but it was only because the Horde soldiers were desperate in their haste to get away from the much more dangerous infernals. Horde veterans almost looked as desperate as Maurus felt, though they seemed to have some measure of control over the situation, while there green soldiers died in droves, simply crushed by the infernals. And arrows kept flying from arrow slits in the walls of the main Citadel, taking down unwary warriors and casters.

"We can't stay here," Arianna called to Maurus. If he hadn't heard the desperate tone in her voice and if he hadn't been shaking with desperate fear himself he would have snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Open the gate!" Commander Krunk shouted from somewhere behind the infernals. A group of armored warriors and two goblins with heavy bags went by Maurus, going into the archway toward the portcullis. It was a huge, dark tunnel and the portcullis looked solid and immovable. That wasn't even the worst part, because as he watched them reach the gate, thin spears lanced out the holes in the portcullis, forcing the warriors to block the attacks and preventing the goblins from getting near enough. Moments later, what he'd feared since first looking up at the outer walls of the Citadel happened. A stream of sizzling, dark liquid came pouring from above the gate, splashing on the shields of the warriors, burning exposed skin and setting the less protected goblins to shrieking and in the ensuing confusion, the long spears went out again and again, finding the flesh of the warriors and the sappers.

"How do we get that?" he demanded, turning to glance at Widget. Her head whipped around to the gate and back to Maurus' face.

"I don't know," she wailed. "Even without the defenders, it's too solid. I'd weaken, then blow up. Or cut it. But-"

"How do you cut steel?" Maurus asked, the incredulous question slipping out despite his much more pressing concerns.

Apparently, Widget was in the same odd state, answering the question seemingly without thinking: "Lots of heat."

The shriek of the maimed elemental made Maurus look forward, just in time to see its flames flicker and die, but two more infernals were already coming forward to take its place. Seeing the crumbling earth elemental and the wavering fire elementals, he raised his axe. He was about to throw it away to draw his shield when he noticed the dull red glow on the edge. It wasn't from any fire, the metal itself was glowing and his eyes went wide.

"Clear a path!" he shouted, stepping forward, switching his axe to his left hand. His right hand found two more of Widget's bombs. "Clear a path!"

For a moment, he thought the others wouldn't obey, but then they pushed themselves to the side, even the elementals moving aside, clearing a path wide enough that the infernal would have to divert its course to hit them. He hurled the bombs in quick succession and this time they exploded quickly, sending the infernal crashing to the ground in a mound of black rubble. Maurus thrust his axe out at the other infernal, locked his eyes on the burning pits that passed for his eyes and rose to his full height, letting out a roar filled with all the defiance and scorn he could muster.

It worked. He could almost feel the infernal's gaze and its intent to utterly destroy him. With that accomplished, he turned and followed the instincts in him that screamed for him to run, moving swiftly back toward the gate. As he did, he glanced at caught each of the shamans' gazes and barked out: "Be ready to hold it!"

When the ceiling passed above him, he felt a surge of squirming fear in his stomach, though it was a pale shadow to the terror he felt as the enclosed space was heated by the infernal behind him. He turned, seeing the mound of stone and fire coming down on him and managed to stop himself right in front of the corpses of the warriors and goblins, only as its right fist came down on him. He leaped diagonally forward, curling in on himself and felt three impacts. One was the ground, another was the infernal's fist glancing off his neck-plates, turning them scorching hot in that instant and the third was his arm bouncing off the infernal's leg, also earning him a burn that made him cry out in pain.

He was immensely grateful to see blasts of lighting, a shadow bolt and a golden wave pass over his head, driving the infernal back for the heartbeats required for the elementals to catch up.

He got to his hooves in time to see the infernal pressed against the portcullis, shrieking and struggling, but unable to really move with it's midsection held in place by the earth elemental and its arms caught by the fire elementals. It might have been the glow of the green and golden fires, but he was almost sure he could see the metal of the portcullis glow red.

"Widget!" he called, breathless. "What do I do?"

Seemingly roused by the passage of the infernal, Widget came scurrying into the tunnel. Just outside the opening, Arianna, Calen, Mathias and half the unit looked in. Beyond them, the courtyard was still a scene of carnage.

Widget pointed at the backpack and shouted over the infernal's cries: "One in each corner. Jam them in."

Maurus grabbed one, and hurried to do as he was told while Widget took the other one, holding it over her head like a shield. He felt sweat beneath his armor and abruptly truly feared that the pack would explode while in his hands.

"Set up and get out," Arianna shouted from outside. Maurus was about to argue, but then he caught the tone, a mix of commanding, smug and assuring. He pushed the backpack into he corner, ignoring the suffocating heat emanating from the three flaming creatures and hurried backward.

Widget shrugged off her backpack and handed it to him.

"Get it on its head," she said, half-excited, half-desperate, pointing at the infernal. Maurus nodded and flung the pack, then grabbed Widget and ran out of the opening and she shouted: "Fire in the corners, now!"

Maurus caught the flash of anger in Drunnya and Shajla's eyes. They stood on each side of the gate, looking ready to get out of the way, but despite their apparent displeasure, they did as they were told, gesturing and shouting in an unknown language into the opening.

Thunder rolled out of the tunnel-like entrance, concentrated to a wave of force that Maurus was grateful he'd gotten out of the way of. He was even more grateful as he saw another infernal charge past him, into the tunnel, only just noticing the bands of white fire around its limbs. Commander Krunk and his elites followed, the casters in their midst including a very focused looking Speaker.

Maurus looked into the opening when he heard growling and screams erupt from within. The elementals were gone, but in the sickly glow of the infernal, he could see deep into the downward sloping tunnel, past the shattered remains of the portcullis, where the bound infernal was smashing a way through the fel orcs who had been waiting on the other side, apparently unprepared for the destruction of the portcullis or the rockslide of dead and living infernal.

A smile crept onto his face, though whether it was a triumphant or manic one, he couldn't tell. Fighting down the tremble in his limbs, he bellowed, voice much steadier than he'd expected: "It's open. Follow me!"

His unit immediately gathered around him, the casters, Widget and those wounded that could still move in the middle, the warriors around them. He could sense the movement in the courtyard as the Horde adjusted and prepared to enter the main Citadel. It was a gamble, but as long as the infernals kept coming down, it was a risk they had to take.

So, once again, feeling the walls press in around him, fighting to keep his hands from shaking, and with the pressure of command on his shoulders, Maurus went down into the unknown tunnels filled with demons and their allies.

* * *

 

_Man, I suck at the whole "keep a schedule" thing. I have no excuse. I hope this long one was worth the wait. I hope it doesn't feel like I'm dragging out the story, but I wanted to do justice to what storming a fortress such as this must be._

_Please let me know what you think. Any input is much appreciated._


	11. Dark Depths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out incredibly late and unspeakably long. Let me know what you think and if the story is beginning to drag or if there were issues with this chapter. I hope you at least enjoy it.
> 
> Also, can anyone tell me how to get rid of eight hundred extra spaces? Because they weren't there in the original document, but this website seems to insists on inserting extra spaces around all words that the spell check doesn't recognize and after every line break and I can't find a "find and replace".
> 
> So for now, the chapter is slightly less polished than I would like, but I'm not correcting 800 stupid mistakes if there is a better solution.

 

 

 

Chasing Through Hell   


Dark Depths   


Past the broken gate and the mangled remains of the fel orcs who'd stood behind it, the hallway opened up, widening to double the width it had been on the other side of the gate and the ceiling rose higher as the floor sloped downwards, but Maurus felt as strangled as he would have squeezing himself through a narrow tunnel. The hallway's size was countered by the oppressive architecture, only partially revealed by massive braziers placed so far apart that there were expanses of shadow as large as the lit areas that divided them and neither the sullen, purplish light of the braziers nor the Horde soldiers' own lights reached the ceiling above. It left the troops walking through shifting shadow and light, beneath solid, heavy darkness, within which anything could be hiding.   


The air was thick and stagnant, heavy with the smell of sweat, blood, metal and fire and permeating it all was the acrid stench of the demonic, so strong that Maurus felt as nauseous as he had the first time he'd felt demonic magic, back when he'd never have thought he could become used to a land where the air itself was corrupted. Shrieks, booms and other sounds of battle followed them in, almost as physical a force as the press of bodies and a few dozen steps past the gate, another primal roar rose from within the Citadel, clashing with the sounds from behind like two colliding gusts of air.   


The only silver lining was that the advance was quicker than the fel orcs probably expected. Without the bound infernal as a battering ram, they would probably have been stopped or at least slowed by the barricaded defensive position a little further in. Instead, the fel orcs broke almost immediately, barricade smashed and a third of them burnt or crushed even before the Horde soldiers engaged them.   


Maurus saw the fight over the heads of Commander Krunk's elites, revealed in flashes of light and the dull glow of the infernal and felt slightly bitter that he was stuck further back. Despite the chaos of the battle, he was itching for violence, for dealing with something tangible instead of simply watching and worrying about the darkness above him.   


His worry was justified a moment later. From close behind came heavy splashes and a series of sickening sizzling sounds, which were immediately drowned out by the screams and Maurus simply knew that the burning oil would had hit his own comrades if they had been stopped by the barricade. Instead they had come just far enough ahead that it had come down on some other unfortunates and his nausea grew a bit for feeling glad that the oil hit them and not him.   


"If anyone sees anything, share it," he ordered, as they hurried along behind Krunk's soldiers, scanning the darkness above. He shifted his axe and tugged his shield off his back and felt it scrape against the stirrups still dangling there.   


"Arianna, can your green orb get up there?" he asked. A thought occurred to him and he shrugged a shoulder, interrupting Arianna's response as he added: "Widget, get up."   


"Ye-" Arianna began again, but she was interrupted when a fireball streaked up from the middle of Krunks ' group and exploded with a hiss against the ceiling. The flash of light revealed several grates, set at odd intervals in the ceiling and ledges running along just a little below it, high enough that they vanished from sight as the fireball faded.   


"Druids, sappers! Get up there!" Krunk shouted, as the infernal ahead crashed into another barricade and more splashes sounded behind Maurus . More pained, scared cries sounded out, though neither those from behind or those from up ahead sounded as desperate and it looked to Maurus like the infernal was moving more sluggishly now. A rustle of feathered wings and several high-pitched yelps told Maurus that the commander's orders were being obeyed.   


A moment later, he felt the tug of Widget's small weight as she scrambled up his back and settled her feet in the stirrups again, peering over his shoulder, getting as much of her body as she could beneath his upraised shield.   


"Thought you'd forgotten me," she said. Her words came as fast as they had when she was watching the infernals come down, but her tone was exaggeratedly chipper, rather than flat-out terrified. Maurus had little doubt that she was still scared half out of her wits though, especially now that she had neither gun nor explosives.   


"Almost," he said, almost biting off the word. It wasn't entirely untrue. She, and more importantly, her short legs, had slipped his mind as they ran inside and her weight on his back was a slight relief, assuring him that she was in no danger of getting stepped on or left behind.   


He felt a light smack on his right arm and glanced to the side as Arianna squeezed between him and Calen. In a firm and irritated tone of voice that told him she wasn't expecting to be interrupted again, she said: "It can. But I can't-"   


"-run at the same time," Maurus finished for her, finding the slightest bit of amusement in the brief narrowing of her eyes. He held up his axe over his shoulder and continued: "Hold this."   


Widget huffed somewhat disgruntledly, but accepted the weapon, angling it so he could feel its handle across his back. With his now free arm, he reached out, deliberately ignoring a sudden feeling of self-consciousness, and picked Arianna up. She tensed for a moment, but didn't protest or squirm and almost immediately adjusted herself so she was leaning against him, nestled in the crook of his arm.   


"You'll take any-" Widget began, voice fast and teasing, but the rest of her words were drowned out by explosions from above. Maurus tensed and for a few panicked heartbeats, expected the ceiling to come crashing down on them, but when just a light spray of pulverized rock pattered against his shield, he relaxed slightly.   


"Just sappers," Widget said casually, confirming Maurus ' guess, as Arianna conjured her spying orb and sent it floating up toward the ceiling. Its sickly green glow, a shade duller than the light the infernal gave off, revealed some of the ledge and caught the loping shape of a druid in cat form, turning it eerie and ghostly.   


"On your guard," Krunk called out as they reached an intersection. The light in the main hallway revealed only a little of the crossing corridor, which looked much the same as the corridor they were in, though narrower and curved, most likely following the contour of the outer wall. Instead of easing the cramped feeling Maurus had, it added a somewhat paradoxical feeling of exposure to his claustrophobic unease    


They were almost across the intersection when the infernal stopped dead, forcing Krunk and his elites to come to an abrupt halt. Beyond it, another barricade blocked the hallway and the fel orcs on the other side was lit from behind by the twisting green light from several warlocks standing in the middle of the armored fel orcs.   


The infernal turned, the flaming white bands around its torso vanishing. It didn't manage to finish the motion before casters sent a stream of magic towards it and several elementals rose from the floor and threw themselves at it.   


At the same time, the darkness on either side seemed to surge and roil before relinquishing its grasp on the feral beasts that bounded forward. Fel hounds and the massive, slavering wolves of the fel orcs came forward in a wave of frenzied fangs and claws, leaping at both sides of Maurus' unit, growling and biting.   


"Close ranks. Protect the casters," Maurus shouted, dropping Arianna, who landed on her feet, her hands already flying into the motion of a spell. He drew his mace, stepping between her and one of the wolves, bashing his shield into its snout and kicking at a small  felhunter  trying to get past him to the casters. The rest of the warriors immediately obeyed his orders, forming a solid wall of steel. It was less steady than it should be, because the pressure of all the soldiers behind them forced them to keep moving, but it still repelled the beasts.

There was a distinctive flash of pale green in the gloom behind the beasts and based on instinct and dim recognition,  Maurus  roared: "Fight their magic. Stand fast!"

He didn't know if it was because of him, but out the corner of his eye, he saw  Zrahi  recover from a faltering, almost cowering step she'd taken backward.

"Above!" Widget shrieked in his ear and his head snapped up. He sucked in a breath and brought both his arms up in front of him, jerking back as figures fell from the gloomy above. They were clad head to toe in dark leather and cloth, and only thin lines of red and their green eyes revealed them as  fel  orcs. In their hands they held long, thin daggers and it was only thanks to Widget's warning that their surprise attack wasn't devastating. The  fel  orc rogue descending on  Maurus  landed with his chest on his shield, but apparently didn't let the pain even distract him and if  Maurus  hadn't drawn back as well, the twin stilettos would have stabbed right into his eyes. Instead, they clanged off his helmet, and for a few moments, his was completely focused on the  fel  orc. He barely avoided most of the stabs, feeling a point of cold steel slip into the mail below his shoulder, before he finally managed to smack the  fel  orc in the side and thrust forward the shield, hurling him into the hounds.

Freed from the  fel  orc, his attention shifted back to the wolves and  fel  hounds and for a short, tense while, he concentrated fully on keeping the formation steady against the hounds and the press from the soldiers behind, while the casters behind him dealt most of the damage to the hounds. Then the attack let up as suddenly as it had begun, the remaining beasts slinking back into the darkness.

He looked around and saw to his pride and relief that his comrades had withstood the attacks, though it was soured when he saw a still, robed form. The face of the downed  shadowpriest  was ruined, the bloody, empty eye sockets dark and accusing in the flickering torchlights. Ahead,  Krunk's  group began moving again.

"Wounds?" he asked. There was a chorus of negative answers and he turned to follow  Krunk  before he heard a snarl. Glancing toward the sound, he found Shayla and the succubus facing each other. Through the slit in Shayla's helmet, he could see she was baring her teeth and her eyes were narrow and angry. The succubus looked lazily condescending, standing between Shayla and a  fel  orc who looked like he was coming out of unconsciousness.

"Move, filth," Shayla hissed.  Maurus  stomped forward, feeling his jaw clench as he wondered what the demon was thinking. Warlocks and bound demons were already unpopular enough without the demons getting in the way like this.

As if sensing that they weren't going to move right that instant, the group drew closer to the side Shayla and the succubus was on, letting the soldiers behind pass by them.

"We don't-" he began, but Arianna interrupted him, voice intent: "Let him live. We can use him."

Shayla's narrowed eyes flicked to Arianna, just as deeply suspicious, before finding  Maurus ' own. There was a testy question in her gaze and  Maurus  opened his mouth to reply, sensing the hostility of the rest of the group.

"We'll get him to tell us  everything.  Right, Mistress? "  the succubus said, in a tone that sounded lustful and expectant and  Maurus  reconsidered. He turned to Arianna.

"Really?" he asked, placing his mace in his belt again and placing his shield on his back, slightly awkwardly because of Widget. Arianna nodded and pulled off her helmet.

"Pick him up, we can work while we walk. Try not to hurt him while we do."

Suppressing a sigh and ignoring the weight of several sullen looks, he took his axe from Widget, bent down and picked up the  fel  orc.

"Form up," he ordered firmly, placing his axe underneath the arms of the  fel  orc so his feet were off the ground and his back was against  Maurus ' chest. He took up position at the center of the formation, with Arianna and the succubus just in front of him on either side.

Mathias and Calen gave each other a look as they stepped into the gap  Maurus ' absence created, but otherwise didn't show any misgivings, unlike the shamans on either side of  Maurus . He gave them both hard looks and then the group began moving, now further back from  Krunk's  elites.

The  fel  orc jerked awake when the succubus touched his face, drawing the black cloth away and exposing the red skin. He only struggled for a moment before he relaxed markedly, at the same time that  Maurus  felt a pleasant, soft heat slither through his own body. He felt his wariness recede slightly and the harsh, unpleasant surroundings seemed to turn softer, less threatening. The heat pooled in his belly and loins, growing sharper as the succubus and Arianna drew in very close to the  fel  orc and as a result, very close to him.

"Good morning, big guy," the succubus purred softly and  Maurus  felt the  fel  orc inhaling deeply, before he tried to look around. That brought his gaze over to Arianna, who caught the  fel  orc's gaze and murmured, in much the same tone as her succubus: "Don't mind the others. They're unimportant."

The  fel  orc groaned incoherently as Arianna and the succubus placed a hand on his sides, fingers digging into the leather.  Maurus  found himself feeling jealous of the attention, the dark-lidded, intense gazes, that was aimed at the  fel  orc.

"We have a problem," the succubus continued breathily and the  fel  orc helplessly shifted his gaze to her.

"We want to go to the deepest chamber," Arianna said, drawing her hand up along the  fel  orc's chest. "But there are a lot of people in the way."

"We would like," the succubus added, giving the  fel  orc a half-lidded stare and slipping her tail beneath the  fel  orc's vest, "to find a quieter way."

"Somewhere private," Arianna said meaningfully, her hand snaking around the  fel  orc's neck, "would make us very happy."

"Do you know somewhere like that?" the succubus asked with mock innocence.

"The stables," the  fel  orc said, his voice low with desire. "Through the dorms, the labs, and then you're there."

"Are those empty?" Arianna asked.

"We wouldn't want to be disturbed," the succubus added smoothly.

"No," the  fel  orc murmured. "The  warchief  has taken the riders out. Most the peons that didn't die because of the elves' experiments are on duty."

Arianna's hand jerked back from the  fel  orc and her languid expression wavered for a moment. The succubus gripped the  fel  orc's chin and forced it toward her instead.

"That's good," she murmured, her mouth only inches from the  fel  orc's. "How exactly do we do?"

A series of instructions rolled off the  fel  orc's eager tongue and when he was finished, it was Arianna that spoke again, her expression and voice under control again: "Who are in those hallways?"

The orc hesitated.  Maurus  felt a surge of hard heat as the succubus trailed her other hand down the  fel  orc's chest. That seemed to do the trick. "Just patrols. Warlocks and rogues up top."

The succubus turned her sensual gaze to Arianna.

"Satisfied?" she asked.

Arianna nodded, her face falling into the more familiar, calm and slightly reserved expression. The succubus smiled a wicked, red smile and leaned in to the  fel  orc.  Maurus  could feel the  fel  orc leaning forward, tense and expectant and he caught a hint of alarm in Arianna's eyes as they flicked up to meet his.

"No," the succubus murmured, soft and warm. There was a tearing sound followed by a gasping, wet gurgle and when the succubus leaned away from the  fel  orc, her chest and neck was splattered with blood, a much more solid layer than the scattered streaks that marked most of her body.

The satisfied smile on the succubus' face, the contrast between her sensual aura and her sudden bloody violence completely broke the spell and all the worry and fear surged back to full strength inside him along with a thick nausea in his belly and throat. He swallowed and was not at all soothed when the succubus turned her smoldering gaze on him and said in the same tone: "I think you can drop that now."

She ran her bloody fingers down  Maurus ' arm, making his belly flip again, before turning around and moving to Arianna's side.  Maurus  glanced aside and  Slavi  paused a moment, allowing him to throw the dying  fel  orc to the side.

"Was that necessary?" Arianna asked, a little tightly, leaning a little away from the succubus when she tried to slip an arm around her.

"You don't usually mind when-" the succubus teased.

"Be silent," Arianna warned and the succubus obeyed, looking both surprised and amused.

Deciding to ignore the exchange and his own unease,  Maurus  ordered the soldiers to stay where they were in the line and hurried ahead along with Arianna to relay the information to Commander  Krunk .

They reached him just after another skirmish, at another intersection just like the previous one and  Maurus  was surprised at how easily  Krunk  trusted the information. A few grueling minutes of tense advance and swift battles later,  Maurus  followed  Krunk  as he led about half of the soldiers along a hallway that went back out and up.

"If this leads to disaster, it is on your head," Shayla told him grimly, but it went surprisingly smoothly. Druids acted vanguard, scouting out ahead along the ledges above and Arianna's orb flew out into the darkness along the floor and that allowed them to get the drop on the patrols they encountered. It was lucky that they had got the directions, because now that they had left the straight corridor, the rest of the Citadel's lower reaches was a maze of dark hallways, empty but terrifying, doubly so because of the agonized bellows that rolled through the hallways. Avoiding most of the encounters was much safer, but the lack of fighting made it hard for  Maurus  to ignore the pressure of the stone and darkness over his head and the certainty that they were looking for whatever was howling like that didn't make him any more confident. It was all he could do to keep a brave face.

He was glad for Widget's quiet chattering, even if he was uncomfortable with her lightheartedly commenting on the interrogation and how she'd caught the edge of the succubus' magic as well. It was a welcome distraction from the suspicious looks his comrades gave him, now that he was carrying Arianna again and his own idle, irritated speculation on why Arianna was so adept at working with the succubus.

It took a while before change in the surroundings pushed all that in the background. The heavy, earthy smell of animals met his nose and soon after, they came out into a massive hall. There were hundreds of pens, all empty and mostly shrouded in darkness, but they could see by the weak light that reached this far in from the huge, open gate on the far side from them. Through it, past the  infernals  patrolling the courtyard, he could see that the gate in the outer walls was open.

He hastily turned away, following Arianna's instructions to the back of the stables, where narrow corridors, only wide enough for maybe two  tauren , lead away from the empty stables. In front of the each of the doors lay a number of armored orcs who looked like they had been taken by surprise. Seeing that the druids were enough to scout ahead in the smaller hallways, he put Arianna down and reclaimed his spot at the between Mathias and Calen, who seemed to relax slightly at his presence.

Behind the stables, as the  fel  orc had said, were living quarters and  Maurus  couldn't help but feel a stab of pity for whoever lived there and a surge of disgust for their masters. The rooms were low and square, and animal skins and straw were spread out along the walls in a fashion that gave  Maurus  the impression that the room was usually cramped. Gnawed bones and some meager possessions lay here and there, mostly small weapons, skulls and trinkets of carved bone, wood and stone. There was a strong stench of filth and sweat and rot, worse than that of the pens, like greater care was shown to the animals than those that lived here.

But what truly turned  Maurus ' stomach was the cages in each corner and the pit in the center of the room. It was carved into the stone, maybe two feet deep and about fifteen feet across. It was lined with inward-facing spikes, of bone, wood and metal, and the sand coating the floor was a red that was almost black, and lumpy, clinging together unlike dry sand.

They didn't pause to study the rooms though, moving as fast as they could through the living quarters, each of which looked much like the first one. They were almost all empty and the few that weren't were silent when  Maurus  reached them, the druid vanguard having quickly and quietly killed their occupants.

Most of them anyway. It didn't escape his notice that a few of the dead  fel  orcs lay on the rough skins, unbloodied, but dead, like they'd simply never woken up. Without the armor, he could tell with certainty that  fel  orcs in these quarters were smaller than the raiders he'd encountered during the previous week and though they were obscenely muscled and almost deformed, like their muscles had pulled their bodies crooked, there was something about their features and their limbs that made him swallow in uneasily.

"Children,"  Gor  growled, confirming  Maurus ' worst fears and igniting the tension that had been smoldering in the group. Widget let out a wordless, almost-whine and low growls erupted around  Maurus  as he realized what the dead  fel  orcs reminded him of: The young orcs in Razor Hill and in the Crossroads, those old enough to hunt bigger game but not old enough to war just yet, even if the  fel  orcs significantly bigger.

He found himself miserably wondering how many on the wall had been years younger than their size indicated and it helped little that they had been trying to kill him. Glancing to his sides, he saw Mathias looking even more tense than usual and there had crept a stomp into Calen's step that wasn't there before. At first glance, Arianna looked as composed as she could in battle, but she had a far-off look in her eyes, which were set straight ahead, only straying when he almost caught her gaze.

Fuming with outrage, they pressed on and quickly left the living quarters, going by dark corridors in much the same style as the hallways before they reached what must be the labs and  Maurus  found he had not yet seen all the horrors Hellfire Citadel had to offer.

The difference between the laboratory and the halls behind was like stepping from a cool room into an oven, only it was the suffocating feeling of demonic corruption instead of heat. Again, he was reminded of the caves beyond  Demonfall  Canyon, though where the sacrificial chamber there felt like death and emptiness, these rooms here were steeped in pain and rage and where that chamber had brought to mind the darkest perversion of ritual magic, these rooms made him think of the alchemy labs in the Cleft of Shadows and horror stories he'd heard of laboratories in the Eastern Kingdoms. Light from many braziers flickered and danced in the steel and glass that seemed to be adorn every surface. There were cages and chains along the walls, a dozen tables with metal restraints in a row at the center of the room and on the oddly elegant tables throughout the room, hooks and needles lay between flasks, beakers and other, stranger glass creations that  Maurus  would have found beautiful in any other place. Here and there, dark, gaping doorways or solid steel doors, equally foreboding, lead away from the main path and  Maurus  had a flash of the same fear as he'd had when he was very small and still feared the caves in Mulgore.

As if in mocking welcome, the beast below howled again and  Maurus  was sure he saw the glass and the needles shake in the onslaught of sound.

Without  Krunk  and his elites leading the way,  Maurus  might have stopped there. He felt like vomiting, like shouting out his outrage and like collapsing into a heap. He wasn't the only one, judging by how the growls had stopped and the men and women around him paused briefly before pressing forward in grim, somber silence.

As they did,  Maurus  glanced around his group, half for something to distract himself with. Mathias looked moments from violence, but he also revealed something like idle curiosity at the surroundings, tilting his head slightly as his eyes scanned the rooms. Widget had gone completely still on his shoulder and the trolls and orcs surrounding him simply radiated outrage, lowering their shoulders as if in anticipation for a charge. The succubus was the only one who looked at ease, even intrigued, and he hastily looked away, again put off by the dissonance between how much she looked like Arianna and how alien her actions were.

His eyes found Calen and Arianna and they caught his attention. Calen was plainly inspecting the room, eyes wide and Arianna did as well, though more subtly, her eyes troubled.

Following her gaze, he looked at one of the tables as they passed, one piled high with odd, twisted glass. Like many of the tables without restraints, this one had a sleek, elegant look to it that was at odds with the simpler, harder architecture and the rough craftsmanship of the chains and manacles surrounding them. Most of the glass and most of the chairs had smooth, graceful lines as well and on second thought, the latter looked oddly narrow for orcs.

It didn't take much thought to put the pieces together and as they hurried down the ghastly, thankfully empty rooms, he thought he could see some similarity between the furniture and the night elf dwellings he'd seen in  Stonetalon  and  Ashenvale .

He reached back and nudged Arianna and her head snapped to him, eyes growing hard and defiant. Pushing through the twinge of hurt at her reaction, he said, confident that Calen wouldn't miss it either: "Stay sharp now, elf."

She hesitated for a heartbeat before giving him a stiff nod and he turned away, satisfied for the moment, deciding he had plenty to go over, later.

They went through the labs without meeting opposition and came out in a hallway that curved sharply, going down like a ramp. If possible, the air was worse here, and  Maurus  swore he could feel the corruption seeping into his fur and skin as the air billowed around him, like the stinking breath of great beast. The impression was only heightened when another roar rolled through the corridor, earsplittingly loud and he had to fight off the urge to scrub himself to get rid of the feeling of having been tainted and fight the nausea that pressed up in his throat from his stomach.

He could see some of the same reaction on those around him. Calen looked to be breathing carefully and he heard several of the trolls behind him gag as they followed the descending corridor, though they were soon drowned out by the rumbling vibration of many deep voices. At first they seemed to be just rumbling and growling, but as  Maurus  got closer, he thought he recognized something in the chant.

He glanced at Arianna and she nodded. "We're here. Prepare yourself," she said quietly. There was a slight quiver in the last two words and she gripped her staff so hard that her hand trembled slightly. The rest of his comrades looked equally tense, if not more so, hands tight on their weapons, faces pale beneath their helmets if he judged it correctly.

"Now we save the day,"  Maurus  said, in a low tone that still managed to carry to his comrades. His words were answered with clearly nervous chuckles and the tension eased minutely.

Sounds of surprise and battle came from ahead and  Krunk  gestured with his large axe, bellowing: " Lok'tar ogar !"

Everyone burst into motion, charging forward. Directly opposite them, a corridor mirrored theirs, rising and curving out of sight. The ramps ended at either side of a wide stone path, which vanished into darkness to the right and lead to a huge doorway to the left, through which  Maurus  could see an absolutely massive chamber, judging by the curved section of wall he spotted as he ran.

Druids, in the form of bears and great cats, were engaged with a small group of armored  fel  orcs, who were struggling, obviously having been taken by surprise. One of the  fel  orcs made the fatal mistake of turning to face the new enemies and a big, dark furred cat dislodged his helmet and ripped out his throat.

The rest managed to recover and withdrew, stopping in the huge gateway and bracing for the impact of the Horde soldiers.

Maurus  hardly noticed  Krunk  hitting the  fel orcs's  line or the Horde soldiers streaming past him in the opposite direction, toward where the other part of the force must still be. He almost tripped when he looked over their heads into the massive circular chamber.

It was a simple room, as big as the arena in  Orgrimmar , fighting pit and stands both, but except for two ramps along the walls opposite  Maurus , the entire room was on one level. The walls, smooth stone but for the lines of metal, rose high above his head, reaching to many times his height and shaping into a dome at the top.

There were over a hundred  fel  orcs in the room, arranged in concentric circles, everyone but those closest to  Maurus  still chanting in mad, oblivious fervor. A good third of them wore dark robes while the rest only wore trousers, fully displaying their twisted bodies and the bony growths that had sprouted from their bodies.

It was what stood at the center of the room, that had caught  Maurus ' attention and almost caused him to fall over his own hooves. Almost on its knees, bound with heavy chains that held its head down, its tail immobilized and its arms stretched out to either side, was the biggest creature  Maurus  had ever seen, a small mountain of bulky muscle covered by grey, scaly skin. It had the same body structure as a centaur, but its lower body looked like that of a thunder lizard or how he'd heard dragons described, with clawed feet and rows of spikes along the back, while the torso, sitting where the head of a thunder lizard would be, was like that of the fiends writ large, without the mouth in the belly. Shredded batwings, as big as small sails, lay limply along its back, also wrapped in chains. The squashed face was half-way between that of an orc and a skull, though the thick jowls beneath the jaw reminded him of ogres and the two rows of fangs reminded him mostly of sharks. Two thick tusks jutted from either side its face, curling into half-loops that could easily encircle an orc and bony spines lined the two thick ridges along the top of its head. Between those ridges, a mane of weakly burning green flame sprouted, running down along its neck and back. The same flame blazed in its eyes, mouth and nostrils and fell in drops of liquid fire from the glowing wounds, no, symbols, that had been carved all over its skin.

Symbols he'd seen in  Ashenvale , on the bodies of two people  Ven'Zarul  had sacrificed.

"Pit lord," he gasped, recognizing the shape of the demon, particularly noticing the tusks. He'd seen the skull of  Mannoroth , on the massive tree outside  Grommash  Hold, and been awed by the size of the demon  Hellscream  had vanquished. But where the skull and armor of  Manneroth  had been set up onto the tree so it gave the illusion of an implacable, almost invincible foe, this pit lord, bound, unarmored and unarmed, struggled and trembled like a half-mad beast, though it was no less terrifying.

"I see him," Mathias said, each word dripping naked hatred.  Maurus  glanced at him in confusion, followed his gaze and felt a shock go through him.

The two ramps opposite the main entrance led to a platform that allowed the two standing on it, with their back to the small gate up there, a view of the entire chamber. One, a large orc by the looks of it, completely hidden in ornate black and red robes, stood on the edge of the platform, hand outstretched and shining with  fel  magic.

The other was  Ven'Zarul . The  dreadlord  stood twelve foot tall and was covered in sleek, black armor from his hooves to his neck, which gleamed like his ink-black horn in the flickering light of the room. He was leaning forward, like an eager spectator, drinking in the sight, but a heartbeat later, he rose to his full height in an instant, his pale wings snapping out to the sides as his attention shifted from the pit lord to the Horde soldiers pouring into the chamber.

That was all the time  Maurus  had to study the  dreadlord  though, before his unit moved to the left of  Krunk's  and the closest  fel  orcs noticed them. He heard  Ven'Zarul  when he spoke though, voice rolling easily through the weakening chant.

"Show you are worthy of the  Fel  Horde. Tear them apart!"

With that, every single  fel  orc without robes turned their eyes on the Horde soldiers and charged. Their voices rose in feral undulating snarls that only grew louder when a tide of red mist spread among them and caused bloody foam to spill out between their jagged teeth.

Maurus  and several dozen other voices screamed back in challenge, and in  Maurus ' case at least, in disgust, as he noticed that a good number of the  fel  orcs were as young as the corpses in the living quarters.

Then he had no more time to think as the tide of red skin fell on them, fighting as much with tooth and claw as with weapons. There was something different about these  fel  orcs, and it took a moment before he realized what it was. They seemed faster and definitely tougher. One utterly ignored it when  Maurus ' axe tore into his face, ripping and breaking almost all his teeth, instead spitting into  Maurus ' eye and in that instant of stunned half-blindness, the  fel  orc's claws almost found his other eye. Only a fierce  headbutt  saved his eye, making the claws scrape along his protected neck instead of into his eyes and even that hardly fazed the  fel  orc. Another blocked several of  Maurus ' strokes with her arm, and he felt the bones break each time, to no visible effect on her ferocity. Only when Calen's hammer struck her in the temple did she collapse and the next orc immediately filled her place.

What should have been a sweeping advance, in light of their opponents unpreparedness and lack of armor, instead ground to a halt in the shadow of the groaning pit lord.  Maurus ' group was doing well, mostly thanks to Arianna, who put down one  fel  orc after another with surprising ease, burning them with  fel  fire and cursing them with magic that made their muscles wither and their bones grow brittle.

Maurus  held back a  fel  orc with his axe, long enough for Mathias to flick his sword out, severing the  fel  orc's spine at the base of his skull, when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.  Ven'Zarul  came soaring through the air, his teeth bared in a sinister smile, and with a gesture, sent a greenish cloud of insects out ahead of him. The swarm hit a group of Horde to  Maurus ' left a moment before the  dreadlord  landed and tore into his enemies with startling speed for someone that large.

"Eye on the  dreadlord ," he called out over the din of battle and then had to strike out twice with the knob of his axe to push back two more  fel  orcs who were getting too close for comfort.

Not long after, a shadow passed over them as  Ven'zarul  leapt to another group a dozen yards away, this time letting a stream of wailing green precede him.  Maurus  hated the  dreadlord  even more as he saw six Horde soldiers collapse and immediately be set upon by  fel  orcs.

He only had time for that instant glimpse, because the  fel  orcs threw themselves at him with renewed effort and as he pushed one over into the  fel  orc fighting Mathias, he could have sworn he saw the wound on the  fel  orc's arm healing even as it stumbled. A few moments later, he drew a long line of blood along the chest of a different  fel  orc, only to see the shallow cut merge shut again. The dark bloom as fire took hold of the  fel  orc's insides made him stumble though and  Maurus  just pushed him back into his comrades, already discounting him as a threat. He desperately hacked around him, trying to prevent the  fel  orcs from getting so close that he would have trouble swinging the axe, resorting to bone-splitting kicks and desperate pushes several times.

He definitely would have been overwhelmed without the others, but with them, he was able to keep them at bay. A powerful sweep of his axe took off the head of one  fel  orc and buried the weapon in another's chest and suddenly, there were no  fel  orcs in front of him. His group was half-way across the room and there were still chanting warlocks and a number of half-naked orcs ahead of them, but they almost had a clear line to one of the ramps and chief warlock up there.

Another flutter of motion caught his eye and he looked up and to the right, cold surging through him as he saw  Ven'Zarul  flying through the air toward him. He pointed at the  dreadlord  and barked, voice loud with urgency and fear: "Fire! Now!"

It worked. A cloud of fire rolled up, devouring the swarm of bugs that streamed from  Ven'Zarul's  outstretched hand. It didn't deter him though and the  dreadlord  landed beside Calen with a sharp clack of hooves. Almost double  Maurus ' height, he towered over the elf, a monstrous giant in black armor.

"Paladin,"  Ven'Zarul  hissed, contempt and hate sizzling in his voice.  Maurus  swept his axe up at the  dreadlord , but he curled a wing around himself and though the axe tore through the surprisingly sturdy membrane, the weakened blow clanged harmlessly off the armor as  Ven'Zarul  lashed out at Calen with blinding speed. Calen jerked back, but not fast enough and he screamed when the blow connected. Blood and shattered chain rings flew through the air as the  dreadlord's  dagger-like claws opened the chainmail beneath his weapon arm and punched right through his shoulder and  pauldron , destroying bone and flesh.

Feeling a spike of hot rage and worry,  Maurus  roared and swept his axe at  Ven'Zarul  again, but missed by a foot when the  dreadlord  stepped back, yanking his hand from Calen, causing the elf to stumble to the ground beside his dropped hammer.

Ven'Zarul's  burning eyes found  Maurus ' and his mouth split in a sinister smile.

"You're very persistent," he said mockingly, sidestepping  Maurus ' overhead swing, in the same motion flicking out a wing and dashing aside  Gor's  weapon arm with enough force that the orc let out a cry of pain. He stomped forward a step and Calen only barely rolled out of the way of the hoof that would have crushed his skull.

Before  Maurus  could respond, Mathias let out a wordless snarl and slid forward, his blade coming up, aimed for a small opening between the  dreadlord's  breastplate and the plates on his legs.  Ven'Zarul  twisted to the side and the sword bounced off the obsidian armor but Mathias' wasn't through. His shield arm was already moving, the edge of the shield aimed at the side of  Ven'Zarul's  knee, but this time,  Ven'Zarul's  right wing, the one  Maurus  had almost cleaved in two, snapped out with a leathery crack and Mathias' head snapped back. As Mathias stumbled back and  Maurus  swung his axe to prevent  Ven'Zarul  from taking advantage of the opening, he noticed with something like panic that the rent wing was mending itself.

Lightning and a slithery length of shadow came over  Maurus ' shoulder and there was the slightest pause in  Ven'Zarul's  effortless movements as fingers of electricity and darkness crawled over his armor until it found skin and sank into it. His gaze swept past  Maurus  and recognition flickered in his eyes.

"Is he your new pet, warlock?" he asked, taking a step back to keep  Maurus ' warriors from surrounding him.

"Shut your venomous mouth,"  Maurus  snarled, as Mathias broke forward from the formation, head low, shield up, sword ready to strike.

"Even your imp is better than that,"  Ven'Zarul  said derisively, gesturing quickly at  Maurus  before parrying a blow with the same hand and catching the next, twisting Mathias' sword hand viciously. Only the desperate attacks of  Maurus  and  Gor  stopped him from bringing the other hand down through Mathias' neck. Instead he threw Mathias back into the others, knocking over Shayla and  Zilja .

Arianna paid the disruption of the formation no heed and a dark haze, threaded with green, streaked from her fingers to  Ven'ZarulVen'Zarul . He waved a hand, dispersing most of it like smoke, but the remains clung to his skin for a moment before seeping into it, like water into dry earth.

"Longer lifespan than any of these,"  Ven'Zarul  spat, barely hesitating in his taunts, apparently unaffected by the magic. He backhanded  Gor  with such force  Maurus  feared he'd broken the orc's neck and a heartbeat later, he had no fear to spare, because a flurry of strikes from  Ven'Zarul  took all his attention as the  dreadlord  pressed forward. Thankfully, those attacks only found plate, though they still numbed a shoulder and his belly where they hit and cut and dented the metal.

Widget probably saved his life with a wild swing of his mace, which she had somehow drawn, managing to smack away a blow that would otherwise have slipped between his  shoulderplate  and his neck armor.

Maurus  brought up his axe in a swing that would have opened an unarmed opponent from groin to throat and  Tu'jan  and  Drim , who'd moved up now that  Gor  and Calen were both out of commission, stabbed their swords at  Ven'Zarul's  wrists. The combined attack forced the  dreadlord  back, keeping him from going past them to the casters behind them, but  Ven'Zarul  still managed to grab hold of one of  Drim's  swords, jerking the orc with him as he half-turned.

The barrage of fire, shadow and lighting that passed over and around  Maurus , like a growling wind of light and darkness, stopped the  dreadlord  from capitalizing on having  Drim  isolated for that moment, saving the orc's life.  Ven'Zarul  managed to dodge a lot of the magic but he flinched as fire blackened half one wing and lightning carved what looked like a second set of veins in angry red burn marks along the membrane of the same wing. Finally, shadow enveloped the base of the wing, creeping into the pale skin like murky water into a wound.

Drim  used the flinch to leap away, swinging his sword wildly at the  dreadlord  as he hurried back to the formation.  Ven'Zarul  managed to catch  Drim's  shield arm, gouging a wide wound in the metal and flesh, but  Drim  still made it back in the formation, bloodied but standing.

As  Ven'Zarul  raised his wounded hand,  Maurus  saw the cut on his hand healing and felt his roiling fear and rage swirl even faster in his chest as the  dreadlord  regained his malicious grin.

Mathias lead in the next attack, lashing out furiously at  Ven'Zarul's  knees and  Maurus  and the others were forced to either follow or leave Mathias unsupported. The resulting attack was clumsy and  Ven'Zarul  scoffed wordlessly at them.

"Three-fold betrayer,"  Ven'Zarul  taunted, cocking his head in curiosity, his eyes fixing on Mathias as he dodged and parried more blows. "Why such vehemence? I don't recall wronging you."

Something shifted in Mathias' posture and he hurled himself forward, out past  Maurus ,  Tu'jan  and  Drim , following as  Ven'Zarul  took a short leap backwards, landing behind the crumbled form of a  fel  orc. His eyes glowed with malice as Mathias came close and  Maurus ' stomach filled with dread. He and the others lagged behind just a bit, having hesitated for a short moment in surprise at Mathias darting completely out of the formation.

Ven'Zarul's  left hand swept out in a vertical half-circle, knocking Mathias' sword up and away from him, before reversing the motion and stabbing three dagger-long claws into the area beneath Mathias' sword-arm, piercing mail and digging deep into his chest. The other hand came down between Mathias'  shoulderplate  and helmet, forcing his head to the side and plunging claws down through his collarbone.

Mathias let out an agonized gasp and before he or anyone else had time to react,  Ven'Zarul  swung his arms into the air, jerking his hands apart. Mathias flew through the air, trailing dark, half-congealed blood and vanished in the melee to the left where the  fel  orc's were fighting a group led by two trolls wielding broad, crimson axes.

The anguish that stabbed deep into  Maurus ' chest only lasted for an instant before it flashed into white-hot rage. He roared, swinging his axe in an overhead swing aimed straight between  Ven'Zarul's  eyes, seeing nothing but the dark glee in those two pits of  fel  fire, thinking of nothing but his desire to see the  dreadlord's  lifeblood coloring the floor.

Ven'Zarul  grabbed the handle of  Maurus ' axe mid-swing and pulled, forcing him past him, smacking him with his wing as he did and spitting a word of  Eredun  before catching a shadow bolt in the palm of his hand, his skin blackening and his arm jerking slightly.  Maurus  stumbled, his hoof sinking into the belly of a dead  fel  orc and catching for just enough to make him take two steps more forward before he managed to stop.

"Mistress!" he heard the succubus scream, nothing but genuine fear in her voice. He whirled around, the worst of his blinding rage retreating before a wave of fear, and saw  Ven'Zarul  had taken advantage of the hole he'd created in the formation. The warriors had been knocked back and only the succubus stood between  Ven'Zarul  and the casters, having evidently pushed Arianna back and away from the  dreadlord  with quite a bit of force, seeing as Arianna was just getting up from where she'd fallen.

"Witless harlot",  Ven'Zarul  sneered, one hand closing around the succubus' right wing while the other stabbed into her stomach, and  Maurus ' stomach clenched painfully as dark blood spilled from the wound and the familiar features twisted in agony. The feeling redoubled when the succubus let out a gurgling scream as  Ven'Zarul  pulled the wing bloodily from her shoulder, tossing the limb into  Tu'jan's  face. The bottom of  Maurus ' stomach dropped out when  Ven'Zarul  took off the succubus' head with an almost contemptuous sweep of his now free hand, sending the head tumbling through the air.

The limp corpse of the succubus tumbled to the side, already disintegrating into ash, revealing Arianna, covered in the dark blood of her dead familiar, small, thin, scared and defiant before the towering  dreadlord .

The sight spurred  Maurus  into motion and he sprang forward. His voice almost cracked as he roared the  dreadlord's  name and swung his axe overhead, pouring all his strength and rage into the blow.  Ven'Zarul  heard him and turned, twisting so his armor and his wings came between his neck and the blow.

Maurus  wasn't aiming for  Ven'Zarul's  head or neck. Instead, the broad, gleaming blade of his axe came down on the  Ven'Zarul's  left wing, right where it connected to his back. The dark pieces of armor there was no protection against the blow and the axe cut through the skin and flesh, which had darkened to a mottled, gangrenous appearance.  Ven'Zarul  gasped and faltered, as the massive wing fell to the ground like a toppled banner, pulsing drops of dark ichor that glowed with motes of dull green.  Maurus  felt a thrill of dark elation and bared his teeth in a snarl, and reversed the swing.

Ven'Zarul  leaned far enough forward that the swing missed before snarling out a short string of  Eredun  and spinning towards  Maurus . As he did, his hand slashed a horizontal half-circle in front of him, sending a wave of  fel  fire towards Arianna and the warriors and casters around him, making them recoil and cry out in pain and as he finished turning, the same hand swung into  Maurus ' muzzle, claws punching clean through the helmet.

It seemed to happen incredibly slowly. The metal parted, digging into his skin and the claws scraped against bone and teeth before cracking and shattering both, on either side of his mouth. The claws were searing hot, like iron straight from the forge, and the burns spread inside his mouth along with the blood. Stars danced in his vision as he swung his axe wildly and  Ven'Zarul  withdrew his claws to dodge, dragging another tooth with him that clicked when it hit the helmet.

Without the  Ven'Zarul's  hand to hold him up, the pain flooded through  Maurus  and he fell to his knees, choking on a mouthful of hot blood. Through a haze of tears he looked up into the  dreadlord's  face and saw none of the sadistic calm he'd showed earlier, just pure hate and rage etched in every line and burning in the sickly green eyes.

"I'll make dust of your bones," he snarled, crouching to pick up his severed limb. "I'll rip out your heart and feed your soul to the  fel -"

Before he could pick up his wing or finish the sentence, another torrent of magic smashed into his back. Tongues of lightning and shadow and a hammer of light all smashed into him, and he stumbled, grit his teeth and grunted out in pain. He turned again, his remaining wing swinging out and sending  Maurus  to the floor, but despite the tears,  Maurus  saw the sudden tension in the  dreadlord's  body and a sweeping glance of the room told him the reason. The battle had shifted irrevocably in the Horde's favor and the Horde soldiers who'd overtaken  Maurus ' group closed on them. The most encouraging was the surprising sight of  Nazgrel  and his elites approaching, fighting through the remaining  fel  orcs toward the  dreadlord . It took him a moment to figure out that  Nazgrel  and his elites must have taken up the rear of the force going into the Citadel and that the soldiers who'd gone away from the chamber had hit the defenders in the rear and allowed the rest of the force to get through.

With a growl,  Ven'Zarul  launched himself into a great backward leap that took him away from the Horde closing in around him and half-way up the left-hand ramp, landing awkwardly. He fled up the ramp and as he did, he shouted something to the warlock in  Eredun .

The warlock in the sinister robes snapped his head to  Ven'Zarul  in apparent question, hesitated for a moment, then seemingly noticed the situation. His hands moved in quick, practiced motion and his deep, growling voice rang out across the room, joining with  Ven'Zarul  as he also spoke alien words that reverberated with power.

"Kill it!" a boyish voice shouted, the high-pitched voice slicing through the noise of the room, one  Maurus  recognized as Speaker.  Nazgrel  repeated the words, his voice booming across the room in a command that had people reacting almost without thinking.

Maurus  stumbled to his hooves, stepping back in formation with little conscious effort and turned woozily, just in time to see  Ven'Zarul  and the warlock vanish through the opening up there, which he almost hadn't noticed. A flash of blinding hate and rage burned some of the confusion from his mind and the pain as he tried to grit his teeth allowed him to gather his thoughts enough to focus.

The few  fel  orcs that hadn't been surrounded howled in abject terror as the pit lord roared, not in agony, but in hoarse triumph. Only just now realizing that they'd fought past the pit lord,  Maurus  looked behind him, hating himself for not following the  dreadlord , and saw a hail of magic hit the pit lord while the soldiers hurried forward, hacking at the pit lord's legs like they were trying to fell great trees.

Maurus  and his comrades had only just turned around and taken the first steps when there was a groan, then several sharp, thundering cracks as the chains, each link as thick as  Maurus ' wrists, came loose from the walls.

"Get down,"  Maurus  shouted, the words slurred by his maimed mouth and the pain. He spread out his arms before pushing down the soldiers around him as he crouched.

It was not a moment too soon. Ripping the chains from the walls sent them spinning around the pit lord like massive flails and  Maurus  saw at  at  least twenty who broke arms, legs or simply died from a crushed skull or chest in the few moments the chains flew around randomly.

"Spread out. Shields overhead.  Lok'tar ogar !"  Nazgrel  shouted and the Horde soldiers in the room picked up the  warcry  and attacked the demon.

The ground trembled as the pit lord stomped its massive, clawed feet, sending many of the soldiers to the ground.  Maurus  stumbled, but felt a push on his shoulder and looked down to see Calen supporting him with his good hand. He was still bloody and looked corpse-pale beneath the helmet, but he murmured a word and golden warmth banished some of  Maurus ' aches and fatigues.

His axe felt much lighter when he raised it again and let it fall into the pit lord's leg but it was like cutting into a hard oak and he almost lost his grip on the axe when he pulled it out. He had to jump aside a moment later to avoid the stomp that followed, then swung again, aiming for the glowing, bleeding wounds. Fire spilled out like blood as his axe bit deeper and he swung again and again.  Tu'jan  and  Drim  and other warriors flanked him, though less tightly, ready to leap away at a moment's notice and more burst of magic soared over his head.

The pit lord roared and stomped its feet, turning around himself like a  kodo  trying to shake off cougars, swinging its chains in deadly arcs that crushed the bones of anyone trying to get some distance to the terrifying demon. The casters stuck close to the warriors, who were almost beneath the pit lord, and kept peppering the demon's sides with streaks and bolts of colorful light that slowly dug into the thick hide.

Nazgrel ,  Krunk  and the elites faced the pit lord head on, their taunts and deadly weapons easily keeping the maddened demon's attention, though it wouldn't leave the middle of the room, drawing back and turning on the others if  Nazgrel  tried to lead it closer to the gate.

There was a boom and the pit lord roared furiously and sagged.  Maurus  just had time to glimpse the shattered front leg before he had to retreat to avoid getting crushed as the pit lord flopped down to crush anyone beneath him.

A spark of an idea appeared in  Maurus ' exhausted head, at the same time Widget shouted in his ear: "Bomb!" He paused his attacks for a moment to pull out the last bomb and shoved the little sphere into the burning wound in the pit lord's legs.

"Back!" he shouted, words still mangled and painful, hoping the order was understood and retreated half a dozen feet. Thankfully, the others got the idea and fell back before the bomb exploded with a heavy clap of force and sound.

Another roar pressed on  Maurus ' ears and the pit lord thrashed around, its tail and the chains swinging wildly, gouging holes in the stone floor. Limping and growling, still able to use its back, right leg to some degree, it dragged itself slowly back, toward the ramp and the platforms.

Maurus  sensed the weakening in the demon, like he often did toward the end of hunt, and so did the rest of the Horde, but unlike when he hunted, he felt no regret for the impending death of his foe. He felt only weary determination and something similar to when he'd put down sickly gazelles in the barrens.

The pit lord abruptly shuffled around and its wounded foot grazed his shoulder. His  pauldron  bent inward and pain exploded in his shoulder as something broke, making it almost impossible to hold on to his axe. He stumbled back and waited for the dizzying pain to fade, but before it could, something broke in the pit lord.

Like a great wave of stone-grey flesh, it toppled, still roaring and  Maurus  stared for a heartbeat before he dragged himself from the stupor and turned.

"Get back!" he shouted, feeling a little less pain, as he ran away from the immense demon falling onto its side.

His comrades scrambled back, only barely making it. At least two others were not so lucky, a  tauren  and a troll getting caught by the demon's bulk and  Maurus  felt tired shame when he was relieved that they didn't even have time to scream.

Other soldiers were quicker. A segment of  Nazgrel's  elites and another dozen, mostly grunts in bright red armor, swarmed up the side of the demon, hacking at it, climbing to more dangerous positions while carefully avoiding the mane of guttering fire running down its back. As they did, a trio of fresh earth elementals sprouted from the ground next to  Nazgrel  and caught on of the chains, holding it fast with great effort.

Maurus  started forward when the last leg went out from under the pit lord and began hacking at the demon's sides with frenzied determination, feeling almost safe even though the pit lord thrashed its tail and flagellated himself with the remaining chains in an effort to dislodge the soldiers there.

Fire bleed out around the wounds  Maurus  cut in the stony hide and the pit lord groaned as the assault of half a hundred weapons and almost as many magical attacks wore it down. It slumped more and more, its attacks and thrashing growing sluggish, its roars losing strength.

"Everyone, start the withdrawal!"  Nazgrel  yelled suddenly and  Maurus  looked around confusedly. Many of those closest to the gate abruptly broke and ran, with the speed of relief and terror. Everyone on  Maurus ' side of the pit lord began edging around it, not quite eager to run out where an errant chain blow could wound or kill them, but as  Nazgrel  and  Krunk  again reclaimed the pit lord's full attention, they began to run past.

Something black moved in the corner of  Maurus ' eye and he glanced to the side, spotting sun-bleached hair and familiar, skull-shaped  pauldrons  behind three  fel  orcs lying in a pile a little way back.

"Out," he shouted at his comrades, feeling like the word rent his mouth open all over again but only really noticing the relief he felt.  Tu'jan ,  Drim  and all the rest didn't even hesitate and most of them were already past him when he turned and pushed his way past the remaining soldiers running for the door.

"What are you doing?" Arianna shouted hoarsely, slapping him on his arm. In answer, he pointed to the shape behind the  fel  orcs and hurried his pace.

"You're crazy," Widget screamed in his ear and glanced longingly at the gate. She didn't jump off though.

"Hurry then!" Arianna urged, a note of panic in her voice, following him.

He jumped over the pile of  fel  orcs and reached down for Mathias' shoulder, only for his friend to whirl around, snapping at his fingers and giving a rattling growl. He'd taken off his helmet and his face was frightful. Blood and gore covered his face in splotches that reached almost to his wild eyes and strips of flesh and a finger-long piece of intestine hung from his teeth. More blood covered his hands and the front of his armor and his posture was feral, crouched low, his hands hanging in front of him.

The sight made  Maurus sick to his stomach and miserable.

"We have to leave," Arianna said, her words quick, urgent and pained.  Maurus  hesitated and noticed  Nazgrel  and  Krunk  launch another attack. As the pit lord's chains came down on them, they and their elites spread out while the earth elementals pulled on the other chains, and the momentum of the pit lord's free arm and the pull of the elementals pulled it down.  Nazgrel  unleashed a blinding spear of lightning and fire rolled along with it, summoned by the shamans flanking him. Following right in the wake of the magical onslaught, the elites and  Krunk  leapt forward, throwing momentum, strength and rage into heavy blows that buried blades of axes and swords deep in the demon's body.

"Now," Arianna said, a note of desperation in her voice.

Krunk, Nazgrel and the elites took off like The Fallen himself was at their heels, many leaving their weapons in the demon.  Maurus  gauged the distance to the gate, feeling a fluttering panic rush through him like a wild wind. They were behind the pit lord, and off to the side and he now recalled how  Hellscream  had died.

He made a snap decision. He dropped the axe, snaked his bad arm around Arianna and started forward, pushing away the pain it caused him to life her. Mathias snarled at him, but didn't manage do dodge before  Maurus  closed his good arm around him, pressing him to his chest as he ran for the ramp, which was much closer than the exit.

"Up front," Maurus  slurred at Widget and she scampered over his shoulder after a moment's hesitation, coming down between Mathias and Arianna, swearing up a storm. She kept up the swearing, Mathias struggled and growled like an animal and Arianna muttered steadily as he ran up the ramp.

There was a rumbling explosion and he threw himself down in front of the doorway up there, curling himself as much as he could around the trio in his arms and angled his back toward the room just as the fire came roaring up over the lip of the platform. He held his breath and closed his eyes and despite the fact that the fire was deflected upwards by the ramp, and therefor didn't  engult  them, he felt the metal of his armor grow so hot it singed his fur and blistered his skin. He didn't know what was worse, the pain of the burns or the agony as he gritted his broken teeth.

It seemed to last forever before he couldn't see the light through his eyelids and he waited until his lungs' demand for air became impossible to ignore before he gasped in a breath. He opened his eyes and thanked spirits, Earth Mother and Arianna's enchantments for his life.

"You're crushing me," Arianna muttered and he rolled over, feeling some relief as he let go of Arianna and tightening his grip when Mathias struggled again.

"Mathias!" he said, his attempt at a firm tone undermined by his pained, slurring word. Mathias struggled and  Maurus  smacked him on the head. "Get a hold of yourself."

The sudden silence after the noise of the battle was made even more oppressive by the fear he felt for Mathias. He had no idea how forsaken actually worked. The elation he'd felt at seeing Mathias' sandy hair had been swallowed by the fear that his friend was no longer there.

Mathias struggled, his arms working to escape from the hold, his feet scrambling for purchase, but  Maurus  held him fast and growled: "Mathias! Remember us! Remember  Garm !"

The words were so slurred that he was unsure if the names could be understood, but Mathias stilled. Then he began trembling.

"Let me go," he said. His voice was low, urgent, half-way between a plea and an order.  Maurus  did as he asked and Mathias sprang up, retreating to the corner of the gate. He spat several times and wiped at his face, only to jerk away his hands, before beginning to wipe them on the wall. There was a haunted look in his pale, dead eyes and a stiffness to his movement that was much more pronounced than usual.

Maurus  couldn't take his eyes off him and his mind raced, trying to find something soothing to say, but the pains and the sheer exhaustion made it hard to think.

"Well, as nice as it is to lie here with my favorite pile of fur," Widget said, her voice almost back to her usual, blithe tone, "we should get up before they leave us behind. I think we could all use some fixing."

Widget got to her feet and walked over to the edge of the platform, looking down. While she did, Arianna rose from her place in the crook of  Maurus ' right arm and he felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment when she wasn't putting weight on his bad shoulder anymore. The relief certainly spoke in favor of finding a healer, as did the other hundred pains, most urgently his mouth.

"Don't forget us!" Widget called down into the chamber.

Maurus  glanced at Mathias, then at Arianna. The troubled look was back in Arianna's eyes and Mathias looked ready to rip off his skin. He really wished he could say something to assuage their worries, but his mind wouldn't work. Maybe it would come if he just relaxed for a bit.

The thought had hardly formed in his head before darkness swarmed in from the edge of his vision as exhaustion overcame all the pain and aches and worries, sending him into unconsciousness.


	12. Guilt and Admission

Chasing Through Hell

Guilt and Admission

Maurus  hurried down the dark hallway, his hooves clacking loudly against the rough stone underneath him. The sound spread out into the hall and came back distorted, sounding like the crack of breaking bones, twisting together with distant, pained moans, reedy mewling and metallic whines that slithered out from unseen doors. The air was heavy, hot and dry and he had to struggle to draw it down into his protesting lungs, just like he had to force his heavy limbs to move, to press on into the thick darkness that fought against his every step. His slow run allowed the steps behind him and the sickly light to come ever closer, though the light failed to reveal any of the hallway ahead.

He felt his heart sink when the floor began to dip and the quality of the sound changed. He was already utterly lost, deep beneath the earth and feeling the weight of every ounce of stone pressing in around him, but the corridor was tightening and he knew that he would have trouble staying upright soon.

The incline grew steeper and as he almost slipped on the slick floor, his flailing hands brushed against the walls, coming away wet, cold and grimy. When he looked at his hands, which, unlike the corridor, the light revealed, they looked off. Discolored, but not just by the grime. The white fur was thinning and the skin beneath was darker and his nails were longer, sharper, like bony claws. He sucked in a breath of fetid air and felt it rush in over his lips, through his nostrils and the hole in his cheek.

Bile rose in his throat and his heart hammered.  Hoofsteps  sounded behind him and a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. Something bony scraped against the inside of his  shoulderplate  and then he felt a push.

The world spun. Again, his hands found clammy, slick stone, but now he was falling alongside them. Above him, he saw a  a  circle of stars and two dead pine trees, one cut cleanly through half-way from its top, then he hit the water at the bottom of the well.

The water was cold, heavy and tasted foul. He thrashed and kicked, managing to get his head above the black, scummy water, but only just barely. His limbs were already protesting, his armor was dragging him down and the water was rough, swirling around him and pulling at his limbs like something living and malicious.

He sunk beneath the surface and felt something bump into him, hard. He looked toward it and felt his blood freeze as he looked into small, pale faces, with gaping mouths beneath pointy, boil-covered noses and beady, dead eyes.

Something bubbled through the water, and his ears twitched, though he hardly registered the odd sound except for feeling the vaguest, warm recognition.

There were other faces. Fanged, blood-colored ones. An almost white-blue, tusked face that made his stomach twist. And a green, pock-marked one emerged to sneer at him before vanishing. All the while, he struggled to swim, swiftly weakening and failing to keep the putrid water out of his mouth. He saw straw-colored hair flowing ethereally in the gloom, pale eyes and teeth flashed in a rictus grin, as if in welcome, and then the strength left him and he descended into the foul blackness.

"Wake up, Cow!"

Maurus  woke with a start, jerked into wakefulness when something stabbed painfully into the side of his muzzle. His eyes snapped open and he looked up into a fire-blackened, curved ceiling. He was no longer in choppy, fetid, dark water, but lay, heavy as stone, on a hard surface, yet he still felt like he was drowning. He choked on the blood in his mouth, feeling his gorge rising even as the blood ran down his throat and he coughed wetly, spraying spit and blood out through the holes in the front of his helmet. With effort, he rolled onto his side, provoking dozens of pounding aches to flare up along his battered limbs, and fumbled for the straps on his helmet.

His gasp drew more thick blood down his throat and he retched, thankfully expelling more of it and managing not to vomit inside his helmet. His fingers found and opened the left clasp on his helmet and before he could reach for the other one, he felt a slight pressure and then that too clicked open, allowing him to push it off. He barely noticed it ring out as it hit the floor, entirely occupied with hacking blood onto the stone beneath him.

Blood kept filling his mouth and with every retching cough, pain shot through his muzzle as fractured bone and mangled muscle was jostled by the motion.

When the coughing fit finally subsided, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, letting his head hang, his mouth open, allowing the trickling blood and drool to drip into the red stain beneath him. The bursts of wrenching pain faded, giving him attention to spare for the stinging and throbbing of the rest of his body, particularly the searing pain in his tail, but what most caught his attention was how wrong his muzzle felt. The lower part of his jaw felt loose and lopsided through the pain and his tongue felt thick and swollen, like he'd chewed on it.

"I can see through him. That's bad," said a reedy voice. Then it grew to a shout that hurt  Maurus ' ears: "Any free healers down there?"

"Get up," said a second, more melodious voice. There was a tight edge to the words and  Maurus  found himself obeying, pushing himself to his hooves despite his body's protest.

The effort left him woozy and for a moment he was about to slump over before he regained his balance. Glancing to the left, he found Widget and Arianna. Widget was standing at the edge of the platform, her gaze shifting back and forth between him and the floor below. Arianna stood right next to him, leaning on her staff, looking ragged and bloody. Her features were twisted in an expression of irritation that didn't quite reach her eyes, which were fixed on  Maurus  face. More specifically on his muzzle where he hurt most and felt most odd.

Mathias was leaning, almost pressing himself into the wall beside the dark doorway, looking into the floor with the blank gaze of a corpse.

"Bad, huh,"  Maurus  said, or rather, attempted to say. Without the  battlerage  to distract him, he could hardly force his tongue to work and it felt like something tore and something scraped in his mouth as he mangled the words. Arianna looked at him for a moment, then spun on her heel.

"Keep your mouth shut and follow," she ordered tensely.  Maurus  frowned at her tone but bent to pick up his helmet, only to find Widget looking up at him with the helmet in her hands. Despite the pain, his mouth quirked in a smirk. The helmet was about the same size as her torso.

She answered with a slightly queasy-looking smile, then motioned with the helmet for him to get moving. He complied, glancing at Mathias as he did. He was about to say his name, but thought better of it and just waved for him to follow, but he didn't even seem to even notice.

Maurus  reached out to put a hand on Mathias' shoulder, but before he could touch him, Arianna's voice snapped up from ahead: "Mathias! Move!"

Mathias shook himself before visibly forcing himself to shuffle forward and  Maurus  followed, giving his friend a pat on the back, almost regretting it when Mathias jerked his head around to look at him. But he violently pushed the disgust he felt at seeing Mathias' bloody mouth and teeth, focusing on his miserable eyes. He raised a hand to his own bloody mouth, before gesturing irreverently between the hole there and where the mail covered the wound in Mathias' throat.

Mathias blinked before his hunched posture unfurled just the slightest bit and his lips twitched.

"Hopefully we won't match for long," he muttered. His voice was morose, but there was the barest hint of mirth in the words, like he couldn't help himself and  Maurus  only refrained from smiling because he knew it would hurt.

He turned his gaze to the room as they descended the ramp. The inferno of the pit lord's death had burnt the fallen to coal-black lumps of flesh and heat-warped metal, which steamed and dripped sizzling fat. He could recognize the  fel  orcs by their lack of armor and the  tauren  were revealed by their size but the rest of the misshapen corpses were almost impossible to tell apart.

Not the pit lord though. The explosion had burned through most of its flesh and skin and its skeleton had collapsed inward to lie in a heap of blackened bone and thick charred flesh. Thigh-bones and ribs rose up towards the ceiling like grasping fingers and the skull had come down on the mound of ribs from the pit lord's upper body, making the corpse look like the stripped carcass of a monstrous whale.

Oddly, it was only now that he looked at the scorched corpses that he noticed the smell of the room again. The rancid scent of the demonic was interwoven with the overpowering smell of burned flesh and seared hair and the horrific sight and smell made his stomach roll with fresh nausea.

After the cacophony of the battle, the room was deafeningly quiet, silent except for the sound of hooves and boots, the sizzling of blood and fat, and the murmur of the healers that floated past the weary Horde soldiers in the gate opposite  Maurus .

He paused to pick up his axe from where he'd dropped it and secured the weapon along his back, wincing as the motion pulled on his right shoulder. Pretending not to notice the wide berth Mathias gave the pile of dead there, he changed course for the middle of the room, spitting out a glob of blood.

"Don't you  want  a healer?" Arianna demanded. He glanced at her as he stepped over and around the burnt bodies, seeing that she'd turned around and was looking at him like he was a misbehaving child. He almost replied, but the twinge of pain as he began opening his mouth made him reconsider and he waved a hand in a vague gesture that made her look toward the ceiling in pure exasperation.

He stopped a little further ahead and knelt, taking hold of what felt like burnt parchment on first touch. With a sharp tug, he pulled the wing free from the corpse pinning it, relieved that it had been mostly shielded from the blast and that the  dreadlord's  flesh had been more resistant to the fire than he'd expected.

He rose, slinging the wing over his shoulder, and staggered, surprised at its weight and the sudden dizziness he felt. But then again, the wing was big, almost scraping along the floor behind him.

" Now  will you listen to reason?" Arianna asked acidly.  Maurus  snorted, regretting it instantly as it jostled his mouth, and trudged after her.

Mathias looked at him for a moment and a bit more light crept into his eyes when realization set in.  "One,"  Maurus  thought and held up a hand, pointer finger extended.

"Limb from limb," Mathias said, sounding more like himself, as they passed the mostly uninjured Horde soldiers in the gate.

"Time and place for prizes. Priorities," Widget said, half-admonishing.

Maurus  only just kept from snorting.  "Funny words from a goblin. And last time I waited, I lost my trophy, " he thought. He looked at Arianna's back, eyes alighting on the strands of blonde hair that had slipped out beneath the edge of her helmet and now clung to the golden collar of her robe. He felt a flash of joy in spite of everything.  "Not all bad though."

The soldiers parted for them, several giving  Maurus  glances that spoke of either amazement or incredulity. Behind several rows of soldiers, the healers had set up and were hard at work on the wounded and for a moment, he was glad to see that the none of the wounds looked like they would be fatal, with that amount of healers. Then he realized that anyone who hadn't been able to move under their own power had perished behind him, and swallowed.

"Shayla," Arianna called as they made their way around the wounded to the side where the healers from  Maurus ' group were working, shielded from the hallway by the warriors. The orc looked up from the troll whose arm she'd just finished mending. The motion was sluggish, but her expression was as fierce as always, her dark eyes narrow. Arianna waved a hand in the direction of  Maurus . "You have a new patient. Make sure he doesn't bleed out. I think he swallowed most."

Teeth showed behind Shayla's helmet, but the snarl died before it came out of her mouth when she noticed  Maurus .

"You stupid brute," Shayla sighed.

"For once, we agree on something," Arianna muttered, speaking out loud the exact thought  Maurus  had had about the two.

"Move up," Shayla said over her shoulder and  Tu'jan  and  Drim  stepped back. "Sit!"

Maurus  complied, forcing down a groan as his aching body protested the motion. Shayla's eyes briefly flicked to the wing he carried, a flash of interest appearing in her eyes, before she raised her hands and began murmuring the low, lilting chant of a healing spell.

He basked in the soothing feeling of the healing, closing his eyes as tendrils of magic made the pains evaporate like morning mist. Even though the healing simply seemed to make more room for him to notice more aches in his body, it was still heavenly to feel his flesh and bone mend.

When Shayla moved on to his shoulder, he worked his jaw carefully, feeling only a slight twinge, like he'd pulled something. He was still missing three teeth though and he couldn't stop himself from feeling at the odd spaces with his tongue.

Only then did he really notice the rest of the warriors he'd led. They looked as exhausted as he felt and  Gor's  friends looked too caught up in anger and grief to really pay attention to anything around them, but the rest looked pleased to see him and impressed too. He decided to count them lucky that they had only lost  Gor  since entering the dungeons, but could find little joy in it.

"Find a priest."

Maurus  glanced to the side and saw Mathias scowl at Arianna, looking ready to argue her quiet order. His eyes found the ragged holes in Mathias' armor and despite not really being able to see the wounds, he doubted they were gone.

"Mathias," he admonished. "I don't see a reason to keep your new holes."

He gestured to the side, where he could see the purple robes of a forsaken priest. "Go."

Mathias drew in a breath, a very distinct motion for him, then sighed, rose and walked stiffly toward the priest.

Maurus  looked back at Arianna, who'd sat down cross-legged a few feet behind him, looking pensive, and noticed the ragged and bloody folds of her robe along her legs.

"You might want to get that looked at," he said.

Arianna blinked before following his gaze. She lifted the hem of her robes, revealing her dirty, bloody but uninjured leg and shook her head. "Why do you think I didn't just hand you a stone?"

Maurus  grunted in acknowledgement, winced as Shayla began healing his burned tail and frowned. "When did that happen anyway?"

"Hound got through," she said absently. A moment later, she added dryly: "You were busy protecting your eyes."

"You're running through clothes pretty quickly," he said tiredly.

"I can sew," she said. She glared briefly at the helmet in Widget's hands and her tone got a little harder as she added: "I could say the same for you and metal."

"Plenty of salvage to make up for it,"  Maurus  said, then grimaced at how callous he sounded.

Arianna didn't answer and when he looked at her dark expression, he remained silent. He wasn't at all sure it had anything to do with his comment, but he had a feeling she'd rather be left alone for now. For his part, he was torn between wanting to sleep and wanting to distract himself and he made a decision when he noticed Widget. She was unusually quiet, simply sitting beside him, cradling the large helmet. He nudged her.

"Widget?" he asked.

She blinked rapidly and looked at him. "Unharmed. Unarmed too, that's a bother. I want my gun and my dynamite," she rambled. She blinked again and continued: "Good that you can talk again."

"Your explosives were well spent," he said quietly. "Sorry about your gun."

She shrugged. "I can make another when we get out. Like you said, plenty to work with. It might even be better, the  fel  iron is very interesting."

Maurus  let himself be drawn into her rambling, only occasionally glancing Arianna, who remained somber and silent, like a lot of the others, both through the wait and the ascent through the corridors.

All talk seized when they reached the surface though. In exhausted quiet they laid their dead among the hundreds of corpses in the courtyard and passed the grim-faced grunts standing honor guard along the walls and they kept silent as they passed through the main gate, side by side with Alliance that no-one had the energy to even glare at. Looking along the walls,  Maurus  recalled the press of bodies just before he went up the ladder. Now the earth had been cratered by the impacts of many  infernals  and broken corpses were everywhere, so many that he had to watch his step to avoid tripping on the uneven ground or mangling the remains of a fallen ally. Deceptively innocuous piles of cracked, black rock stood out from the red dirt and the dead, lying in mounds or, in most cases, spread out along holes that looked to have been blasted out of the earth. More grunts stood watch over the battlefield, watching over the dead and over a hundred Horde were already at work separating the Horde dead from the  fel  orcs, piling the latter in preparation for pyres and carrying the former toward the camp. In the distance, to the south, the Alliance were doing much the same.

"Is it always like this?"

It took a moment for  Maurus  to recognize his own quiet voice. He doubted he'd ever sounded like that before. He couldn't even muster up anger, the only thing he felt was weariness and something black and empty in his gut.

Mathias snorted, a quiet sound and  Maurus  turned his head to him, frowning.

"When you win. Except for the  infernals , this is the best we could have hoped for."

Maurus  glanced at the devastation around them, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Except for starving them out like civilized people," Mathias said drily," this is as clean and  honorable  as it gets. No poisons, no sickness, no plague. No treason."

A part of  Maurus  scoffed at Mathias' comment, considering what the forsaken were known for, but then again, he was beginning to think Mathias wasn't of exactly the same mind as most of his fellows. That suspicion only added to the gnawing in his gut though, a feeling that made him avoid looking down at Widget, incidentally ensuring that he noticed the slight hitch in Arianna's step. For a few steps she sped up, seemingly eager to go someplace else, but then she slowed her pace again.

Maurus  opened his mouth but managed no more than the first syllable of her name before she gave him a look that made him shut his mouth and look away. He wanted to say something, but he doubted he had the words. He was sure he'd glimpsed pain behind the glare.

When he looked left, he found Mathias' gaze far too thoughtful for his tastes. He could think of several lines of thought he'd rather not have Mathias follow. Hoping to distract his friend, he asked: "Seen many sieges?"

Mathias shrugged. "A few. I was a footman."

Maurus  blinked, surprised at the easy admission and disturbed by the implications.

"Now you know my dark past," Mathias said, seemingly unconcerned, and gave  Maurus  an expectant, completely hollow grin. Despite the challenge though,  Maurus  shook his head and didn't answer. Mathias might not condemn him, but considering what  Maurus  knew about the blood elves, he was afraid Arianna would. Widget and the others around him almost certainly would too.

"I doubt it can be worse than the story I'm piecing together," Mathias said darkly.

Unwilling to answer Mathias' questions and reluctant to dredge up memories that were probably more bitter than Mathias let show,  Maurus  kept quiet and silently thanked the spirits that Arianna and Widget both seemed distracted for now.

The Horde camp was a welcome change from the devastation of the battlefield. A paradoxical mix of grief and merriment hung in the air, but the noise was almost like before the battle and the normalcy of it calmed  Maurus . The rest of the unit trickled slowly away, returning to their tents throughout the camp  untill Maurus , Arianna and Mathias peeled off from the group themselves. When they reached their own campsite, it seemed they were the last ones back and the place was already rife with activity, rowdy with noise, drink, gambling and cooking. Judging by the wild movements, far-away eyes and the bottles and sweet smoke-scents, their campmates were also well into forgetting the battle and  Maurus  felt a sudden urge to dunk his head in a barrel of wine and not come up till he fell over backwards.

He tightened his grip on the wing and reminded himself he had more important things to do before he could really cut loose.

The soldiers kept their distance to the  Maurus  and his friends' tents. Only  Wiven  sat there, working magic over a barrel. He greeted them with obnoxiously casual cheer, eyes bright and pleased, which was slightly unsettling, considering the apparent reason for his solitude. Right next to him were two corpses, so horribly burnt that they were little more than ragged piles of misshapen, charred flesh. The fire had burned so deep that  Maurus  could see bone and skull and still have no idea what race they had been.

"What happened?"  Maurus  asked slowly.

Wiven  smile got a little broader, revealing white teeth. "The rats came out to play. I figure they thought now was a good time to make you all very thirsty." He waved a hand, wet with gathering moisture and looked at one corpse. "I  like  it here. So much easier to get good sparks."

Maurus  followed  Wiven's  gaze and silently reminded himself to keep and eye on him and never get on his bad side.  Wiven  could have dealt with the assassins with a fraction of the power he'd evidently used, but had decided to use utterly excessive amounts of magic. Even  Maurus  could see that.

While  Maurus  had stopped to stare and talk to  Wiven , Arianna had gone past him and ducked into her tent. She came out without her helmet and with her backpack and bent down to say something to  Wiven , who rolled his eyes in response. Another few words made his grin fade and he rose, following her when she strode back with purposeful steps.  Maurus  turned as she passed him but before he could open his mouth she said over her shoulder: "Meeting. Stay and rest."

Maurus  was of half a mind to argue, if nothing else because of her blunt tone, but exhaustion won out. Mathias wasn't.

"Elf," he said firmly. "Where-

Mathias fell silent when Arianna whirled and shoved her hand into her backpack, murmuring the now familiar, though still incomprehensible words.

"Still west," she said flatly. "Most likely further west than before."

As Mathias grunted and Arianna hurried off with  Wiven ,  Maurus  laid the wing on the ground and picked up the corpses. Bile rose in his throat as he realized that, except for the stink of burnt hair, the charred smell reminded him of food more than anything and he hurried to drop the bodies by the road.

Then he sat down next to Mathias who was already removing his armor with easy, almost unconscious motions, and copied him.

"Good to see  someone  isn't too important for clean up," Mathias muttered.

"I'd expected you-"  Maurus  began, only to clamp his mouth shut before he could finish the sentence with  'you to complain about wasting food .' "Take one," he finished instead.

Mathias looked at him for a moment. "You had it well in hand," he said blandly, tug on his breastplate.  Ven'Zarul's  blows had dented the plate and tangled the mail and  Maurus  thought he saw discomfort in Mathias' face and a hitch in the movement of his arm. He grabbed hold of Mathias' breastplate, gave it a sharp pull and the plate came loose.

They remained silent until their armor lay in two neat piles in front of them.  Maurus  pulled the wing into his lap, leaned back and dragged out his backpack from his tent.

"You're not the least bit curious about them?" Mathias asked.  Maurus  turned back to his looked up at his friend and his eyes fixed on the blood on Mathias' teeth and throat, not on the hand Mathias waved at the road. With a groan, he reached out, grabbing a clay cup from the ground and dipped it in the barrel, easily reaching over it with his large stature. He held it out to Mathias and got a questioning look.

"I don't want to look at that mess for longer than necessary,"  Maurus  said, consciously making it come out in an irritated grumble.

"Isn't that a waste?" Mathias asked drily.

"Nobody bugged me about it," he said. He got filled another cup as he added: "If anyone complains, it's my ration."

Mathias took the cup and cleaned himself slowly.  Maurus  slowly drained his own cup and looked around for long ears, blue, green or pink. Seeing none within earshot, he took a deep breath, feeling his stomach coil into knots.

"You've been curious for a while," he began. Mathias looked at him, droplets of faintly stained water dripping from his face. He kept wiping the stained cloth along his throat and chin, but his full attention was on  Maurus .

"You know the Venture Co. works in the  Stonetalons ?"

Mathias snorted and  Maurus  tilted his head in acknowledgement of how stupid the question had been. He swallowed and continued: "Me and a two friends were some of the many that tried to sabotage them. But they didn't slow down."

" Grimtotem ," Mathias said and  Maurus  nodded.

"Sowa left. Came back with a load of flasks and said it would end it. I never knew who she got it from, but I could guess where it came from."

Mathias put down the cloth and laid his hands on his knees. His eyes betrayed a hint of understanding, but otherwise, he was completely impassive.

Maurus  sighed. "It seemed fitting. They poisoned everything they didn't destroy. Disease is nature's most insidious killer." He hung his head in shame. "We threw it down their wells. You've seen how the goblins live, illness would spread like a wildfire. And we could easily mop up the rest. Then the land might recover."

He glanced up briefly. He couldn't quite decipher Mathias' expression, but he couldn't make himself look him in the eye for more than a moment. The decisions he'd made back then filled him with shame, but it was the aftermath that was the hardest to think back on.

"Neither of those happened," Mathias said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Maurus  shook his head and said: "In the night, I dreamed. I saw festering wounds. Tainted rivers. Infected grain. Saw the wretched death disease brings, in filth and weakness."

Mathias' eyes widened a fraction, but that was all the reaction he showed.

"I dreamed once more on the way to Sun Rock Retreat. I knew what we were doing was a disgrace. There was no honor in it, neither for us nor them."

He shrugged uncomfortably and idly ran a hand along the wing.

"But I'm shamed to say I only made the decision when we ran into other travelers. There was a goblin with them. Never caught his name, but I'll never forget his face, because it made me realize that the Venture Co. isn't isolated. His presence pushed me to action."

His shoulder slumped and he looked down at his hands, clenched into fists on top of the wing. Speaking it out loud made it a hundred times worse, putting words to how catastrophic it could have been. His stomach was an empty hole and his eyes felt wet. He had to take a moment before he trusted his voice.

"It was lucky the Venture Co. had drawn attention. There's little love lost between them and the Earthen Ring and the  Cenarion  Circle but mention Scourge and they spring into action."

"Your friends didn't correct you? Or stop you?" Mathias asked.

Maurus  shook his head. "I didn't tell them. Didn't think I could convince them. Just went straight to the shamans. Followed those that went on foot."

"Why?"

"Had to see what I had wrought. Help if I could."  'Die if I must,'  he added silently. Unbidden, his mind conjured the image of the ramshackle barracks, the stench and the moans. The limp little bodies, like children or wizened elders and the single, deathly ill troll. There was no threat in them then and he'd cursed himself for it, despite his hate for what they did.

"It was contained. There weren't that many deaths. Twenty-six, from a crew of hundreds. There were far more that recovered, with the help of the casters. You met  Sprack ."

Maurus  fell silent, still staring at his hands. He hadn't expected it, but he had hoped admitting it to someone would make him a little lighter or that Mathias would have something to say to ease his guilt. But his friend didn't speak and the guilt was as strong as it'd ever been, and now he also feared his friends condemnation.

" Sprack  seemed to know," Mathias said casually.

Maurus  still couldn't face Mathias. Instead, he shrugged and sighed. "I think he saw us wrecking something. Made a few assumptions."

"I thought you'd be dead."

Maurus  swallowed thickly and felt a burst of old anger in the midst of his guilt. "Sowa and  Tuga  are. At least, they never left the mountains. I think he gave me the benefit of the doubt." As he did, he rubbed at his scarred nose.

"Beat you," Mathias said, leaving no doubt it wasn't a question.

Maurus  couldn't hold back a wince. In truth, he didn't have much recollection of the days after  Sprack  and his buddies tracked him down, a third of the way to Honor's Stand. Starkest in his memory were fragments of pain and furious, hateful eyes. And a single vivid moment of being dragged, literally by the nose, along rocky ground on broken bones until tearing pain left him lying face-down in gravel with blood running from his nose.

With an effort of will, he raised his head. Mathias was still as only the dead could be. His chest didn't move, his hands had come to rest on his knees and his face was empty of expression. His pale eyes were piercing but  Maurus  forced himself to meet them.

"How bad?" Mathias asked after a long moment, unnervingly calm.

Maurus  swallowed and wondered for a brief instant how he could word it best. Then he scolded himself for the thought and pointed to his nose. "Took this. Broke a lot of bones. Cut my braids. Well, my entire head."

Even now, the humiliation stung, in spite of all the other emotions the memory stirred up. He'd liked his adornments and even though he thought it fitting and practical that he no longer had them, he did miss them. That the loss had also served to further mark his separation from Sowa and  Tuga  was both saddening and a relief.

Mathias' brow furrowed. "But they took you to a healer?"

Maurus  nodded. "I can never repay him."

Mathias studied him a moment more and it was only with effort that  Maurus  stopped himself from looking away. His heart was beating hard against his ribs and his mouth was dry.

"You haven't repaid  Sprack ?" Mathias asked.

Maurus  snorted bitterly. "I don't think the scales tip in my favor."

Mathias nodded, a gesture that sent a stab into  Maurus ' gut. Then he gave  Maurus  a crooked smirk that did nothing to calm him and said: "I'm impressed with your honesty."

He rolled his shoulders. " I remember a lot of my life." His expression darkened. "I remember my death and what came after. I spread plague and killed my countrymen, brought the same hell on them that I lived. When I regained my senses, I gathered material for new plagues."

Maurus  stared at him, feeling sickened by the revelation and a wave of pity rolled through him. Mathias, on the other hand, regained his crooked grin and continued: "Who knows? Maybe I had a hand in your work."

Maurus ' jaw clenched. Despite the lack of condemnation, Mathias' deceptively light tone both baffled and angered him but he remained silent, finding he had no words and no right to speak even if he'd had any.

"I can't throw stones. And I haven't met anyone who willingly spread disease and later regretted it," Mathias said and the words were another punch in the gut. More teeth appeared, the grin turning a little sharper.  "But the truth wasn't as bad as I imagined. And you're throwing yourself at the Legion now, so putting a blade through your throat would be stupid. And it would upset the elf."

Despite the harsh words,  Maurus  felt the worry fade and his guilt actually did ease a little. He was under no illusions that it would remain diminished, but for now he could push it away. Mathias looked up, looking thoughtful, and asked: "Does the snot stain know?"

"No,"  Maurus  said. "You're the first soul I've told."

A smile, a real one, bright and without any edge for once, flitted like a shadow across Mathias' face. "I'm honored," he said, sounding entirely genuine. Then the smirk returned, though a hint of seriousness remained in his eyes. "I understand why you would tell me and not the elf though."

That made another burst of worry course through  Maurus  and all relief he'd felt drained away. He put a hand to his forehead and exhaled slowly. If he'd been nervous about telling Mathias, he was terrified of how Arianna might react. He was honestly surprised Mathias had taken the story with such calm. His reasons made sense, but in  Maurus ' experience, emotion most often weighed heavier than reason, it certainly often did for himself, and Mathias had to know that  Maurus  wouldn't abandon their shared mission even if he ended their friendship.

By contrast, Arianna had less of a stake in the death of  Ven'Zarul  and had plenty of reasons to hate any plague user, considering the Scourge's methods and the Fall of  Quel'Thalas . If her main interest in  Draenor  was finding the rest of her people and fighting the Legion, she didn't need him or Mathias like they needed her. On the other hand, she  was  a warlock, appeared less concerned with honorable means than  Maurus  and seemed committed to their mission. And she actually liked Mathias, despite everything saying she shouldn't, so she didn't seem one for blind hatred. Finally if her suspicions matched Mathias', she was either surprisingly optimistic about the real story or more forgiving than  Maurus  had expected.

Still, despite his reasonable arguments, he couldn't shake the fear that she would leave if he told her and that made it feel like something gripped his stomach and squeezed. He'd worried about Mathias, but the worry about Arianna's reaction was far stronger because... His whirling thoughts abruptly stopped and he went over what he'd just thought again and his mind sped through the day. He remembered his realization that morning and the short while he'd thought her dead. The gratefulness he'd felt when he saw her alive and later, just after the battle underneath the Citadel. He blinked as he his again felt the bewilderment from that morning, before the battle stole his attention and the empty ache on the battlements. Then a warmth spread through him, chasing away the worst of his worry, and he snorted with wry amusement.

Mathias tilted his head and made an enquiring sound.  Maurus  shook his head, glanced toward the road and muttered: "This is all wrong."

Everything about it was ridiculous. Not since he'd heard the rumors about the  Warchief  and  Proudmore  or the disturbing slanders aimed at the Banshee Queen and her Majordomo had he heard of something so mismatched. True, he'd sat and howled drunkenly at more than one odd pairing stumbling upstairs, most of the more memorably ones in Ratchet, but he didn't recall anything lasting. Personally, he'd never really seen the appeal, except maybe because of the exotic aspect.

But now he found himself interested in a small, entirely too thin, almost hairless thing that he could probably snap like a twig if it wasn't for the fact that she would burn out his eyes before he had the chance. The thought made him smile strangely, even as he attached words to Arianna. Strong, unapologetic, loyal. The last one and a quick consideration of how she generally acted, was encouraging.

"All wrong," he repeated, his smile growing wider.

Mathias rolled his eyes. "All things considered," he said, "you're slow. As a turtle."

"You're very blunt,"  Maurus  said amiably. There was still fear and worry, but oddly, it wasn't as unpleasant as before. Of all things, it reminded him mostly of the mixed terror and excitement he'd felt when he agreed to hunt down  Ven'Zarul , even though the dangers and rewards were entirely different.

"Hesitating holds you back. Coddling others holds them back. I don't have patience for either," Mathias said as he rose. He studied  Maurus  for a moment and said: "Though pausing for food wouldn't hurt. Might wipe that expression off your face and neither of us will mock you for it too much."

Maurus  fought down his smile and gave Mathias a level look.

"We can't have you ruining your trophies because you are too hungry to concentrate either," Mathias said, nodding at the wing draped across  Maurus ' legs.

"What about you?"

Mathias grinned and his eyes gained a glint of menace. "Already ate, remember? I'm going to get some new steel." His voice lowered a fraction. "Can't beat you bloody without it."

Maurus  snorted. "Can't beat me bloody with it," he retorted, even though it was half a lie. They were pretty evenly matched in their spars, but  Maurus  did usually end up with more bruises. He chalked it up to Mathias' being quicker and being dead. Mathias didn't and now he just raised an eyebrow, then turned and left.

Maurus  looked down at the wing he'd been meaning to begin working on half an hour ago, glanced up at the simmering pot a little way away and decided it could wait another hour. He put the wing into his tent, piling his possessions on top so it would make a racket if someone tried to run off with it, then rose and made his way over to the pot, feeling properly hungry for the first time since the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely mortified that this took so long. I will admit that university is, again, kicking my ass and that this chapter just wouldn't work, but I still don't think that is a sufficient excuse. And to add insult to injury, I'm not sure how good this chapter came out. But I think it ended up ok, though far from great. Let me know what you think and if I'm just dragging things out now. Any words, be it praise or advice, are welcome and most appreciated.


	13. Sharing

Chasing Through Hell

Sharing

Maurus was quickly drawn into the insistent celebrations and before he knew it, he was sitting with company made merry by drink, smoke and the relief of being alive. As he gulped down a bowl of strange, but tasty soup, he learned how the battle outside had progressed. After the infernals had thrown the armies into disarray, Kargath Bladefist had led hundreds of wolf riders out through the main gate, supported by a large contingent of orc casters. Between the infernals crushing power and the sweeping charge of the fel orcs, the Horde and Alliance army had almost broken.

The teller, a troll named Ha'Shul with a face full of small, jagged scars that had almost healed, only grudgingly recounted what happened next: Alliance gyrocopters had saved the day. Once the infernals had gathered into groups, the gnomes began bombing the stone monsters with astounding success. The unthinking infernals had not changed tactics even after the first few bombing runs, making them easy targets for the bombers and a few very daring artillery shots.

That relief had been enough to restore the crumbling resolve and instead of dealing the decisive blow to break his enemy, Kargath Bladefist had found his charge stopped and himself surrounded. He and his soldiers had fought with berserk ferocity and held out for a long time, but when the rain of infernals stopped, the Horde and Alliance overwhelmed them and Kargath's head now sat on top of a pole somewhere on the outskirts of the Alliance camp. That fact did cause Maurus a twinge of annoyance, as did hearing that it wasn't the Horde that had turned the tide, but he found the Ha'shul's annoyance unreasonable. Told in the safety of the camp, the tale was grand and glorious regardless and with wine in his belly, Maurus was able to ignore the deaths and enjoy the story.

His ignorance of events didn't go unnoticed and before he knew it, he was telling his own story of braving the wall, storming the courtyard and going down beneath the Citadel. He told it loudly and enthusiastically, gladly showing off his scarred face and omitting the pain and the fear. Some scoffed at his claims, but a few word from Payta and the old shamans, who hadn't missed the wing he'd carried in, shut them up before he had to resort to rougher measures and he found himself getting much more respectful looks. He was thankful for that, because for all his bravado, he, like most others, had had enough violence for the day.

He heard a few more stories before he excused himself, feeling a little cramped by the sudden attention. It seemed the others sensed his desire for solitude, as no-one followed him, even when he began working on the wing.

It was the first time he appreciated the strange unchanging night sky of the Peninsula. As much as he loved the majestic night sky of his home, it was easier to work with the dull alien light than in the flickering illumination of a fire. As always, the world around him faded from his mind as he methodically found where to cut and where to pull, removing the bones while leaving the wing as intact as possible. Back in Mulgore, Heloda had always preached the virtues of meditation for calming one's emotions and opening the mind to the voices of spirits, but it had made Maurus restless. He never felt calmer than when he dressed his kills or when he worked in bone or wood though. Then again, maybe the old shaman had had a point. Maurus had never had anything but the smallest hints of contact with the spirits after all.

He dimly noticed the festivities dying down, the people wandering off, retiring to their tents singly or in pairs, or simply falling asleep on the ground. A few remained awake, their low, somber murmurs a stark contrast to the previous revelry and the hushed, but still noticeable sounds coming from a lot of the tents.

Arianna's continued absence made Maurus wonder what was keeping her. He could easily imagine Mathias and Wiven finding distractions somewhere, but Arianna had not seemed in the mood for celebration. That thought made him a tad worried. She'd had been unusually curt when she'd left and he could easily imagine how an upset warlock and soldiers who'd just lost friends to the Legion might mix badly, particularly if there was booze involved on either side. It was by no means certain which side would come out the worse for wear, but either outcome would probably be bad for Arianna in the end.

He shook his head and laid the final piece of bone down beside the others. It was useless to worry, because he wouldn't be able to find her anyway and she did know how to defend herself. Far more than just defense, to be honest.

He reached for his other tools, yawned widely and reconsidered. He wanted to see Arianna before going to bed, but he couldn't keep sleep away for much longer, so he folded the wing around the bones, pushed the bundle and his bag of tools into his tent. Instead of following just yet though, he leaned back on his arms and let his eyes and thoughts wander.

He came out of an inadvertent half-doze when his unfocused eyes caught blonde hair and a familiar green crystal over the top of the tents. He came a little more awake and smiled as Arianna came into view. She looked tired, but when she caught sight of him, slight surprise flashed across her face and her posture became a little less burdened.

Maurus lifted a hand in greeting before indicating the spot next to him. Arianna considered for a short moment before sliding down next to him and placing her staff across her knees.

"Welcome back," he said quietly. Arianna simply closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. "I guess your business wasn't any more restful than the rest of the day?" he added.

She shook her head but didn't speak. Maurus lifted a hand and rubbed her back softly, feeling her tense muscles beneath his fingers, especially when she leaned into his touch just a bit.

"Have you at least eaten? Or gotten a proper drink?"

She cracked open an eye and considered him.

"Food hasn't been on my mind."

Maurus blew out a breath, rose and picked Arianna up almost in the same motion. She gasped quietly but didn't protest otherwise, letting herself be carried, hanging limply from his hands the few feet to where he put her down again, in front of a dying fire and the pot hanging over it. He sat down between her and the pot, filled a bowl with the tepid stew and handed it to her.

Arianna dipped her spoon and said tiredly: "Wouldn't it have been easier to just get me the bowl?"

"Saves me getting up for the next one."

"Who says I need another one?" Arianna asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Me," Maurus said. He pointed at the bowl and said mock-sternly: "And if you don't eat, I'll sit you on my lap and feed you like an unruly kid."

Something tugged at the edge of Arianna's mouth. "You really shouldn't be the one playing mother hen," she said between mouthfuls.

Maurus snorted. "It doesn't seem like sense comes with age. Neither you nor the rest of your people seem able to feed yourselves."

Arianna paused for a small moment and Maurus sighed internally. Of course he'd manage to bring her thoughts back to the troubling signs they'd seen. Her hesitation only lasted for a moment though and after another mouthful of stew, she looked at him and asked: "How old are you?"

Maurus blinked, surprised at the question and it took a moment for him to summon up an answer. "Thirty-one," he said slowly.

Arianna nodded almost imperceptively and went back to eating. Maurus frowned, thrown by the question and her response to the answer, then reached out to rub her back again. Arianna sighed through her nose, but relaxed slightly and held out her empty bowl. Maurus obligingly filled it with his free hand, smiling a little at the feel of her warmth and her silent acquiescence.

Arianna caught the expression and said drily: "To be perfectly honest, I wasn't expecting smiles out of you today."

Maurus gave a short, tired chuckle. "I found a few things to smile about after you left," he said. Arianna narrowed her eyes and her throat moved subtly, but her features relaxed when his smile widened and his fingers squeezed her shoulder. "Not at all what I meant," he added. "Food and a little time just put things in a different light."

 _'That's an understatement,'_ he thought quietly and his smile grew a little more.

"We lived, we won. Despite everything we saw, I've decided that we have cause to celebrate," he said, the somber words at odds with his smile. He swallowed, and continued: "I'm unspeakably grateful that you weren't on that zeppelin."

Arianna shuddered, so slightly that he wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't touching her. "I was."

Maurus felt the bottom of his stomach drop out at the admission and he stared at her, taking in the the soot and dirt on her again. She shifted, causing his hand to slide off her shoulder to rest on the ground, and settled as a warm weight against his arm and side. There was a note of embarrassment or shame in her voice when she continued: "I reconsidered my confidence in the goblins. And summoned Mirlia. She helped me down.

Maurus took a breath, taking solace in her solid warmth and the tickle of her hair and managed a light tone as he said: "I can't blame you for being careful. If I had something that could lift me, I'd have brought it on the zeppelin too."

The succubus' death rattle sounded in his thoughts and this time he shuddered. "I'm glad you brought her. Ugly, what she got for protecting you though," he said.

Arianna's face darkened for a moment and she nodded. Her voice was more pensive than sorrowful when she said: "Luckily, she'll live. I guess I'll have to show her some appreciation next time I call on her."

Maurus raised an eyebrow. "How are you going to do that?"

She caught his eyes and now her expression brightened with mischief, her pale red lips curling in a smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Maurus laughed, the sound coming out as warm as his chest felt. An image flitted through his head bringing with it a heady heat, though tinges of jealousy and self-loathing also came with the thought of tails, horns and horns. He latched on to the safest part of his thoughts and asked something he suddenly remembered: "Why does she look so much like you?"

That change in direction made the glint in Arianna's eyes change to surprise for a moment and Maurus was irrationally satisfied at seeing the barest hint of a red in her cheeks. She was getting harder and harder to get a rise out of, so he was savoring it even more this time but she recovered almost immediately, raising her chin haughtily and saying unconcernedly: "I find it aesthetically pleasing."

It took Maurus a moment before he figured out what that word meant. He grinned and said drily: "You aren't the humblest person I've ever met."

Challenge sparkled in her eyes as she responded: "Do you disagree?"

Maurus snorted. "Can't say I do. For a hairless, spindly monkey, you're easy on the eyes."

Maurus thought he saw pleasure and irritation play over Arianna's face in quick succession before she schooled her expression. She pointedly flipped a strand of hair out of her face, raised an eyebrow and said: "Perhaps you prefer Mirlia? She's less spindly."

Again Maurus snorted, a bit of contempt creeping in in spite of his best efforts. "She's also a demon. That goes against her."

"I thought you might appreciate the similarities," Arianna teased lightly. "Maybe you thought she had nice horns or a good tail?"

"I'll stick to my own people if I want a tail to hold onto," Maurus scoffed. He tilted his head, pretending to think and added: "Unless I suddenly develop a fascination with the color blue."

 _'Right now, I'm partial to gold,'_ he thought, studying Arianna, but he didn't voice it. She looked content to a degree he hadn't thought possible so soon after discovering signs that there were elves on the enemy side and he wouldn't risk ruining that.

"That's a bit more adventurous than I expected of you," Arianna said drily. She scrunched up her face a little bit and added: "Also a bit more of a vivid image than I needed right now."

Maurus laughed. "You've been travelling with a Horde army for months. I thought you'd be used to it by now."

"When the worst coarseness you've experienced in a hundred years is the occasional dwarf, it isn't easy to adapt to the open vulgarity of the Horde. But in all honesty, it is your relative subtlety that throws me off."

Maurus raised both eyebrows and grinned. "Are you saying you'd find it easier if I were more crude? That shouldn't be hard."

"No," Arianna said immediately and Maurus chuckled.

"Your people can't be all chaste and virginal," he said amiably. "Unless that double act in the tunnel was a sign of how different you are."

Arianna tipped her head to the side in acquiescence. Then she smirked and said: "We're as depraved as most, I suspect. We're just very circumspect about it. We're a lot like the humans in that regard, particularly their nobility."

"I doubt that's the side of humans that you see in Ratchet."

Arianna chuckled. "No, that would be the other end of the scale. Sometimes I suspect the heat burns away all subtlety, regardless of race."

"You don't find the songs in the Spigot subtle?" Maurus asked innocently.

Arianna raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that was as loud as any words she could have said.

"So what, your inns are all ringing with proper, sober odes to flowers or something?" Maurus asked teasingly. "Sounds boring. A good, raunchy song never fails to lift the mood."

"War, love and beauty are always popular with us. Like with you. I do have ears after all."

Maurus nodded.

"Intimacy is _very_ prevalent in our poetry though, and our songs," Arianna admitted after a moment's thought.

"Oh? I thought you said you weren't coarse."

"We express things a little more delicately," Arianna said primly, though her eyes were sly. "Our art is quite heavy on metaphor and utterly unwilling to express anything candidly. I think most of our works would go right over the heads of most of the Horde."

Maurus gave her a skeptical look and said: "Try me."

"They don't translate well," Arianna said. Maurus had heard that excuse before but for once it sounded sincere, like she truly thought it lost too much by being conveyed in Orcish.

He shrugged. "Let me hear one in Thalassian then."

Arianna glanced at him, a hint of surprise in her eyes.

"Yes, I remember things you tell me, stunning" Maurus said lightly, still grinning. "Let's hear it."

Arianna's hesitation was probably because she had to think about which piece to tell him. Her subtle glance around and the twitch of her ears, which he would have missed if he wasn't looking for him was harder to explain away like that and he again felt absurdly gratified at the hint of embarrassment. Then she opened her mouth and the lilting, smooth stream of Thalassian caught his full attention. He felt himself relax, lulled into a serene calm by the soft and flowing words, despite the fact that it reminded him a little of Erudun, just without any of the hard, sharp edges. A few times, it reminded him vaguely of Zandali and Common, which jerked him a little from the calm, but mostly he simply enjoyed the sound of it and wondered what it actually meant.

When Arianna fell silent, he asked. It took her a while to properly convey the poem's meaning and when she finished, Maurus was laughing so hard that it was an effort just to hold himself up on his arms and one he only really made because the chuckling Arianna would fall down with him if he didn't.

"It sounds so beautiful," Maurus said when he finally found the breath to speak, "and beneath the layers of flowery language, it puts half the dirty ditties I know to shame."

"It does sound crass when you put it in simple terms," Arianna admitted.

"I call it honest," Maurus said amiably, "It's fun however you phrase it."

He felt her shift against his side and looked at her. Sometime during the fit of laughter, she'd ended up leaning fully against him, light and surprisingly soft, despite her thin frame. She glanced around them and said: "I'm surprised you didn't wake anyone up."

"Shouldn't be. After today, I'd be surprised if they woke for anything other than battle. I-" He yawned widely, feeling the pleasant tense and relaxing in his muscles as he stretched his body as much as he could without changing position. "I wouldn't. Besides, they don't have your ears," he continued, turning his head and blowing at the top of Arianna's long ears. She shook her head, half a shudder.

"Don't do that," she said. "Why aren't you? Sleeping like the dead?"

"Wanted to begin on the wing. Thought I'd wait and see what mood you were in before turning in," he said easily. He studied the camp, turned his ears and added: "We _should_ sleep."

Arianna gave a noncommittal hum in answer and he didn't press the point. The distance to his tent seemed inordinately long and his bedroll much less alluring now, so instead of moving, he said:" Do you know more than that one poem?"

Arianna gave him a flat look, but her lips twitched.

"Or you could regale me with some other subject," Maurus suggested. She shook her head.

"Your turn. Tell me one of yours. In Taurahe. Then translate. We'll trade."

Maurus grinned. "You might be disappointed with our terribly simplistic stories," he said sarcastically.

"I doubt it," Arianna answered lazily. "Come now, before I fall asleep."

Maurus considered, found just the right one to begin with and took a moment to get Taurahe straight in his head before beginning to speak.

They exchanged song and verse for another long while and when they parted for what sleep they could get before morning came, Maurus felt content and pleasantly exhausted, rather than simply drained like when they'd arrived back at camp.

* * *

Maurus was glad he'd had some enjoyable experiences that evening because the following day was hell. The morning came too soon and the day was spent clearing the battlefield, side by side with Mathias and the rest of the unit he'd led. It was a task that was as emotionally draining as it was physically tiring and no-one found anything to lighten the mood with. It was only the sense of duty that allowed Maurus to stay awake and present for the funeral ceremonies and despite his best efforts at cleaning himself, he fell asleep with the smell of pyres and blood still in his nose. Sleep wasn't much relief either. The faces of the dead and the living appeared in his dreams, all of them pale and lifeless before his mind's eye and he found himself wishing for violent nightmares instead.

Four days later, three days after the infuriating discovery that the wells in the Citadel were all tainted with demon blood and therefor all but unusable, half of the army set out toward Zangarmarsh, passing along the north part of the Citadel.

Over the following two weeks, Maurus shook off the gloom of the burial day, despite the constant attacks they suffered. When the army wasn't in motion, he spent much of his time training with the soldiers he'd led over the wall, who'd apparently decided they liked him for leader, or sparring, mostly with an absolutely savage Mathias, and in between, he somehow found time to work on the dreadlord's wing-bones.

When he slept, his mind flittered dizzyingly between dark brooding and almost giddy flights, few nights passing without his dreams showing him fiery fel green and fierce heat, both pleasant and painful.

Awake he saw less of Arianna than he'd have liked. She trained with them but spent much of her time either with the warlocks or with the elves. Maurus didn't know which, because she opted for going alone or with Wiven and it bothered him more than he wanted to admit, not least because she'd suddenly become more reserved. She confirmed Maurus' suspicion that there were most likely blood elves working with the fel orcs one evening, but otherwise, she seemed to hold more back, falling into fits of troubled silence which she seemed unwilling to let Maurus drag her out of.

After the exchange they'd had, it was disheartening and aggravating to be suddenly kept at arm's length and frustrating being unable to help. Confusion was added to his worries when she spent a tired, lazy evening with him by the fire after they fended off particularly vicious demonic attacks by the Pools of Aggonar, only to withdraw again when the Pools were behind them.

A few days later, the mountains, which had loomed on their north side since they passed the Citadel, drew back and they came out onto a vast plain. It sloped toward the south until it fell into a shallow valley before the land rose again into sharp peaks, honeycombed with caves and crawling with creatures that made it all look like an enormous, frenzied anthill. The plain to the north was littered with massive shards of scarlet crystal, the smallest of them as large as burrows, the largest as big as the entirety of Thunderbluff, like something truly gargantuan had shattered a small crystalline moon and let the pieces fall where they would. All over the plain were massive, misshapen creatures of rock and that same scarlet crystal, wandering between the crystals, stomping over the red ground and the corpses that were so plentiful that they were visible even from a distance. The corpses turned out to be both fel orc and demon when scouts braved the expanse and found out that the colossi were rabidly aggressive, like the rock flayers to the south.

That left only a narrow path between the dangerous areas, at least for an army composed of two parts that didn't mix well, but there was a hope that it could be traversed with care. On the other hand, it wasn't hard to see that it was a prime location for further weakening the army and Maurus really didn't like his chances against those colossi.

It was a good thing he knew someone skilled at blowing things up.

"-and that fiasco sent his favorite mug flying through the air so fast, it took his ear clean off," Widget chortled.

Maurus chuckled and resisted the faint urge to drop, or better yet, throw away the sack full of explosives he carried over his left shoulder. It wouldn't be very honorable either, seeing as there was nowhere he could really toss it without someone being hit by a possible explosion. Besides, he'd probably drop the robe too if he opened his hand for the throw. Instead, he simply eyed the sack again and asked: "You're _sure_ this won't blow our camp to bits? There's fire there."

"I told you. I'll handle the tricky ones. The rest are very safe. Once I've given you all a little lesson," Widget said, patting his head.

Inwardly scoffing at the word 'safe' coming from a goblin, Maurus frowned up at her where she sat on his right shoulder and huffed out a sigh. "Remind me again why I put you there?"

"I guess you were in a hurry to get rid of my bombs," Widget said brightly, giving Maurus an answer he already knew. She shrugged and said: "I'm happy with it. I get to rest my legs, you get to enjoy me at even closer range and we move fast. Everybody wins."

Maurus' severe grunt of understanding turned into a wide yawn. When he managed to close his mouth again, he shrugged and said: "At least you've got no gun this time. Not sure my ears will ever recover."

"Bah, I can still hear just fine," she said lightly.

"I think you were compensated for your size by your resilience," Maurus said as he turned from the road and stepped between familiar tents. "It's the only explanation for why any of you can hear."

"What?" she asked loudly. When Maurus glanced at her, he saw she'd raised a hand to her ear and turned her head like she was hard of hearing. The wide loops of polished bone in her ears were swinging back and forth, jostled by the sudden motion at the movement and one of them brushed against her hand. Her gaze met Maurus', then shifted toward the tents and her eyes turned sly.

"You know, these are really nice. Real sturdy too, I doubt I can break them without trying."

Maurus shrugged again and turned his gaze ahead again. For once, it seemed that everyone was back in the camp, though he was mostly glad just to see Arianna, Mathias and Wiven, sitting in front of the tents. "Glad you like them. It seemed-"

Widget moved as he spoke, leaning forward and interrupting him by saying: "One more reason you're my favorite mountain of fur. Did I thank you?"

Her tiny fingers tangling in his mane, and then he felt the warmth of her lips as she pressed them to the top of his head for a long moment, making him stop abruptly. "Thank you," she said quickly. Very quietly, her head still bowed over his, she added: "Eyes ahead."

He'd been about to crane his neck upwards to look at her, but at her quick words he kept looking forward. Wiven was looking at them over a wooden barrel with relaxed, amused curiosity, his head tilted a little to the side. Mathias sat beside him, his new sword in his lap, a sharpening stone in his hand and an oilcloth on his arm. He wasn't looking at Maurus but instead had his eyes trained on Arianna, an expectant expression melding with his usual grin.

Arianna was sitting cross-legged and Ash had laid his bony head in her lap like any mortal dog. He rumbled in displeasure when the hand she had on his head froze mid-stroke. The beginning of a smile slid of her face and her eyes widened for a moment.

For a second, Maurus felt stung by the odd change in expression, but then his mouth split in a grin that was half-pleased, half-amused when he guessed the likely explanation. As a warmth spread in his chest, Arianna's features smoothed into a relaxed, indifferent expression and she resumed petting Ash as he walked into camp.

Widget made a satisfied humming sound and leaned back again, scratching her fingers through Maurus' mane as she did and he didn't hold back a quiet, pleased sigh.

His grin widened as Arianna's eyes narrowed and both Mathias and Widget chuckled. Arianna didn't so much as glance in their direction, instead nodding and saying: "Welcome back, Cow."

"Evening, Arianna" Maurus said, sitting down as Mathias and Wiven gave him nods in greeting. It was a relief to put the heavy sack on the ground and let the robe fall into his lap.

"So, what brings the snotstain?" Mathias asked, gesturing at Widget and meeting her gaze with a grin.

"I," Widget sniffed, "bring gifts. But I'm not sure I'm going to give them to you now."

" _I_ bring gifts," Maurus said, hefting the sack in demonstration. "You just rode along. Are you getting down from there?"

"Not sure I want to. You're comfy. Much softer than the ground," Widget said, shifting her weight. "Can't I just keep riding you?"

"I expect he'll grow tired of your chatter eventually," Arianna said evenly.

"He hasn't bucked me yet," Widget said confidently. Scratching Maurus again, she cooed exaggeratedly: "And you won't, will you, Boss?"

Maurus snorted and shrugged violently, eliciting a yelp from her, but not managing to dislodge her. Then he reached up, plucked her from his neck and placed her on the ground between himself and the sack.

"I think I draw the line at being a chair," he said calmly. He rolled his shoulders, not letting it show on his face as his bruises made themselves felt and added: "Even if you're light, you're not weightless and it's been a long day."

"Aw, and here I thought I was important. But maybe you put earrings on everyone you meet?" Widget said, making a show of looking over Wiven, Mathias and Arianna.

Maurus rolled his eyes. "You know that-"

He halted when Arianna rose smoothly and strode past him. Ash padded along behind her, a low rumble coming from his chest as he turned his head toward Maurus and Widget.

Maurus turned and asked: "Where are you going?"

"Out of range," she said, waving a hand vaguely as she passed him.

"I doubt there's any danger," Maurus said placidly.

Arianna paused momentarily before replying, voice deceptively light: "I don't know about that."

Maurus looked at her, taken aback and a little contrite, as she continued out of the camp. Running his fingers over the robe, he couldn't deny a bit of relief and satisfaction at her actions though.

"That was more of a reaction than I really expected," Widget mused, sounding immensely satisfied and Maurus looked back at the others. Seeing the amused expressions on their faces, he wondered when he'd become a source of entertainment for them before deciding it was probably soon after meeting them. It did annoy him that they seemed to have caught on to his feelings for Arianna before him though.

"He did give you jewelry," Mathias said, shrugging.

"He gave you a knife, she wasn't glaring at you."

"Well, not at the moment, but I'm not sure she's really noticed it," Mathias said, his eyes briefly flicking to the short handle protruding from a new sheath at his belt. "Also, I doubt she sees much meaning in a weapon. She should, but then, she has her culture against her there."

"Are you excluding us elves on purpose?" Wiven asked lazily.

"No. Calen didn't want his. He looked offended. You haven't earned one yet," Maurus said. He added, tone lightly mocking: "You'll get something when you turn those flames on something worthwhile."

"Ah," Wiven said, eyes glittering in anticipation that Maurus thought had more to do with the thought of fire than with his promised reward. Offhandedly, he added: "Most likely Calen refused because you offered him demon bone."

"Huh," Maurus said, glancing down at the pieces of bone on the garment in his lap. "I guess that could explain it."

"Wait, you haven't given Ari her piece yet?" Widget broke in. Maurus shook his head once.

"I was a little out of practice. Thought I'd do something about that," he said. He lifted the robe and added: "And I needed some help. I'm not a tailor."

"So you are giving us all the inferior ones? I'm hurt!" Widget said, fake offence in her voice, a hand dramatically placed on her chest.

Maurus snorted and said, without any hint of shame: "Yes."

Widget dropped the dramatic pose and her face turned serious. "Might not be the best idea, saving her for last though."

"It wasn't done yet," Maurus said, shrugging.

"You couldn't have given her something small? Poor thing might feel like you don't care when you shower everyone but her with gifts."

There was a sinking feeling in Maurus' stomach as he considered that. Because of her apparent worries and her people's penchant for subtlety and patience, he'd stopped himself from pursuing her like he normally would, both to spare her needless extra pressure and because he was unsure if such overt displays would be off-putting to an elf.

He hadn't considered how trying to accommodate her, along with distributing trophies to his fellow hunters as was proper, while saving her for last, could have looked from her perspective.

His sudden doubt made him give Widget a flat stare and say, more grumbling than intended: "Hardly a shower. And wasn't it you who just tried, pretty hard, to get a rise out of her?"

"You never gave me something this nice. And you seemed to like the reaction. Honestly, she needs teasing, to take the edge off, going by the scuttlebutt," Widget said pleasantly. Slightly more seriously she added: "Didn't expect her to take me seriously."

A few cases of truly stupid jealousy Maurus had seen when he still ran with the tribe came to his mind and he said: "We may have handled this a little thoughtlessly."

"Maybe," Widget allowed. She looked down at herself, then trailed her eyes from Maurus' hooves to his horns and said lightly: "Or maybe she's thinking too much. I've seen some things in Ratchet, but that is just silly. Can you imagine?"

Maurus looked down, far down it seemed, at Widget. As weird as it sounded, there was some good sense in her words, that didn't necessarily only apply to Arianna. As Mathias chuckled, Maurus smirked and said: "I guess it's a question of creativity. Like that goblin and night elf I saw once."

"Why do you keep putting images in my head I don't need?" Wiven groaned, covering his face with a hand as Widget laughed.

"You seem awfully unimaginative for someone so old. We consider it our duty to educate you," Mathias said breezily.

"Thank you," Wiven said drily. "You truly enrich my life."

Widget gave a bright answer and pulled a bomb from the sack, turning the conversation on how her _bombs_ would enrich their lives. Maurus sat back silently, feeling an impatient thrill and trying to ignore his misgivings. He wasn't sure if he had the right idea about Arianna, and the past he'd mentioned to Mathias might be impossible for Arianna to forgive. But both of Mathias and Widget had some points and if Arianna was overthinking things and misunderstanding him, being overt would solve that problem.

He felt the robe against his hand and smiled through a yawn. He certainly had a good, major display to begin with.

* * *

Maurus drifted into wakefulness, feeling odd. His heart was beating quickly, but his body felt heavy and relaxed and his mind was sluggish and foggy. Cracking his eyes open, he saw a sheet of rough, pale brown-grey above him and wondered what had happened to the dark sky and the twin moons. Beneath him, he felt coarse fabric over hard dirt instead of soft grass, the air was dry and hot instead of pleasantly cool and a soft ghost of smooth skin evaporated from his senses even as he tried to get his thoughts in order. Still only half-aware where he was, he let out a quiet growl, realizing that he'd once again woken in the middle of the night and that this time, for once, he'd really have preferred to stay in the Dreaming.

"-are being stupid," said a familiar voice quietly. The tone was light, but there was a note of annoyance lurking beneath the easiness.

As his thoughts became less jumbled, he tilted his ears, wondering what could have woken him at this time, when the relative quiet clearly told him most of the camp was asleep. These days, he slept like a rock unless the nightmares ripped him from sleep or the frantic noise of combat roused him and both of those made him jolt awake, ready for battle so it was odd for him to wake now, whenever it was.

"I don't think this is the time to get carried away with an infatuation," another voice said, equally quietly.

"Have you noticed what we're doing? This is exactly the time to get carried away," came the reply and now Maurus recognized Mathias' raspy voice.

"We might be even fewer, at least fewer sane, than we thought," the soft voice of Arianna said. The uncharacteristic note of vulnerability in the words cleared most of the remaining fog from Maurus' mind and he had the sudden guilty feeling he shouldn't be overhearing this conversation. He made to get up, but a glance down at himself stopped him from rushing out to interrupt them. For some reason, he neither spoke nor moved to cover his ears either as Arianna continued: "I can't just go and attach myself-"

"So you're going to play broodmare for the kingdom? That why you run off with Wiven?" Mathias interrupted skeptically and Maurus felt a flash of hot anger and a paradoxical chill at the words. He didn't react though and before Arianna could reply, Mathias snorted: "I doubt that."

"My people, my county-" Arianna began testily.

"Means the world to you," Mathias interrupted again. "But you're being stupid. Either the 'infatuation' will pass, in which case you're free to go back and push out some mewling knife-ears or you aren't going back for that. Either way..."

There was a short moment of silence before Arianna replied. "And when he dies?" she asked, voice hard, tight and angry.

Maurus swallowed.

" _If_ he dies, you'll be an, exotic, experience richer," Mathias said.

Arianna scoffed "And another sorrow heavier."

"Our world is one of war. You live, you love, you lose," Mathias said, sounding impatient. "Then you murder the ones that took from you. And remember the joy."

There was a low, burning outrage in Arianna when she responded: "My city died in agony. Friends and family died in filth and blood. You may be deadened to sorrow but I have no need to add to mine."

Maurus heard a sudden movement and a thud of impact and he sat up abruptly, eyes wide. He almost missed Mathias' hiss: "Do you see these teeth? They were the last thing my wife felt and that was _after_ the plague we flung over the wall took the children and the old. Don't you dare-"

"Let go of me!" Arianna's hiss was that of a viper ready to strike and was accompanied by at faint crackle of flame.

Another sound of swift motion came before Maurus could shake himself from his shock and he ended up staying inside the tent, an arm ready to push him forward to get outside if needed. A moment of silence passed before Arianna spoke, voice tight but sincere: "I apologize. I forgot."

"It would suit you to remember," Mathias bit out. There was another short pause before he continued, words slow and careful at first: "I consider you a friend. That and the fact that I know what you've endured is the reason I'll forgive that. But it is also the reason why I say this. I'm dead. You're not. You have more options for joy than I, unless the fel burned out something. To see you waste opportunities is aggravating."

"It isn't so simple," Arianna sighed.

"Actually, it is," Mathias said, the words blunt and full of conviction. "What it isn't is easy."

Silence fell for what felt like a long while and Maurus lay back down, staring up into the tent above him. His throat felt tight and there was a guilty, heavy weight in his stomach as well as a fluttering worry.

"Honestly, you shouldn't need advice from me. Aren't our elders supposed to be the smart ones?" Mathias said eventually, sounding much more like himself.

"The Cow said much the same thing," Arianna said softly. "He said we're too thin."

Mathias let out a snort. "He may have a skewed idea of what too thin is, but I'm with him on that one. I'm dead, I have an excuse. You don't."

"I am, very much, an elder to both of you," Arianna said, turning more somber. "He'll die well before me."

Mathias snorted. "Unless someone skewers you," he said and Maurus almost felt a stab in his gut at the thought. "If you insist on finding only pain in every memory, why do you insist on remembering your history? And don't say it's just for the fallen, because then I will point you toward some of _my_ people, who you'll fit in much better with than us, who actually try to live."

Arianna answered with a faint sigh.

"Barring violence, I might exist forever," Mathias said. "If did as you seem to suggest, I should never care for anyone."

There was a rustle of clothing and a faint jangle of metal.

"You're leaving? I didn't think the sermon was over," Arianna said. The mocking tone she inserted into her words was a slight relief to hear, because it sounded more like she was recovering than hiding anything.

"I've said my piece. But I can repeat it, if you're too dense: Don't hesitate. It's idiotic. Take that from someone who haven't got your options."

Light, quick steps sounded as Mathias left the camp and the silence felt deafening in his wake. There was no sound to indicate Arianna moving and Maurus considered going out to her. It wouldn't be as embarrassing as it would have been when he'd just woken up, but on the other hand, he felt guilty for having overhead the exchange.

He wrestled with the decision for a short while until he decided that he could admit his eavesdropping in the morning. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the guilt, gratefulness and half a dozen other emotions.

Sleep didn't come though. He didn't know how long he lay there, in an odd half-awake state where his thoughts flitted around hectically, slippery and impossible to control, just like the mess of emotion coiling within him, but eventually, he gave up, forced his eyes open and rose.

He stuck his head out the tent and looked around, finding the camp empty except for Arianna, who sat, looking up into the sky, Ash, who lay beside her, seemingly asleep and a few trolls in the other end of the clearing between the tents.

He felt his heart skip a beat as he came to a decision.

Arianna turned her head to him when he came out of the tent and sat down beside her. The movement was lethargic, speaking as much of her fatigue as the dark circles under her eyes and her drooping eyelids. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a wry smile though.

"Should I begin lecturing you on sleeping properly now?" Maurus asked in greeting, making a show of looking around at the peaceful army camp.

"Maybe I've slept till now," Arianna answered lazily. She frowned when he took a breath instead of answering immediately.

"First of all," he said. "I have something for you."

Arianna's eyebrows rose and only then did she seem to notice the bundle he now held out to her.

"I hope it was worth the wait," Maurus said, as she cautiously unfolded the dark red bundle. Inside were two small bracelets, each composed of two wide bands of carved bone connected by dark leather.

She picked up one and studied it, looking at the careful lines inscribed along the pristine bone, eyes a little wide. She made to look up at Maurus, then stopped, her eyes falling on her own hand, which had touched a piece of bone that wasn't attached to the other bracelet. She put the bracelets down beside her and lifted the robe up in front of her.

It was a simple garment, though the bottom of the robe was jagged like wingtips. The only decorations were the wide pieces of bone decorating the collar and the cuffs, all of which had been polished to a bright ivory sheen after being inscribed with a small rune.

Arianna admired the gifts for a long moment and Maurus was torn between being worried by her silence and amused by her wide eyes and apparent speechlessness.

"This seems a little excessive, don't you think?" Arianna said slowly, finally turning her head to meet Maurus' gaze. There was a somewhat incredulous smile on her face.

"Not really," Maurus said, a small smile stretching his lips."I hope you'll accept them."

"Why wouldn't-" Arianna began slowly, sounding almost suspicious despite the half-smile on her face, but she stopped speaking when Maurus held up a hand.

"Mathias', Widget's, the others' were obligation. Somewhat premature trophies, maybe, but..." He shrugged. "Also, it might unbalance 'Zarul."

Understanding flickered in Arianna's eyes and Maurus almost teased her for being so slow to get it. Instead he just quietly appreciated the expression, gestured at the robe and the bracelets and kept going: "Those are a bit more."

Above the curve of Arianna's lips, her eyes were blazing with an intensity that seemed to wash the tiredness from her and a bit of tension snuck into her body as she righted herself from the slight slouch she'd sat in. The tip of her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip and she leaned forward the slightest bit.

The words suddenly fell into place in Maurus' head and he felt the oddest mix of warm exhilaration and cold fear twisting his gut as his heart beat hard against his ribs. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to steady himself, folding his hands in his lap.

"I have to apologize," he said soberly and Arianna frowned, seemingly thrown by his words. "It wasn't for my ears, but I heard your talk with Mathias."

Arianna's posture stiffened into rigidness.

"I'm sorry," Maurus said.

Arianna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I guess you didn't hear much that you can't figure out with a little thought," she said, a bit of strain in her voice.

"Well," Maurus said awkwardly, before gathering himself. He gestured to the robe and the bracelets again. "I didn't just make those because I felt obligated. I wanted to make you something, a, grand gesture, if you like, to begin with."

He really wanted to reach out to touch her, but he held himself back. She was watching him in carefully controlled silence and couldn't bear it if she recoiled. Despite his tension, the corner of his mouth curled wryly as he caught her eyes and said: "It's definitely not a mere infatuation on my end, Arianna."

She exhaled slowly and he held up a hand, preempting any response she might have. His chest swirled with a joyous relief at putting even that much out in the open, but the feeling lasted only for a moment before it was strangled by his trepidation when he continued: "I won't lie to you, neither by word or silence. Never build too close to the flooding river."

Arianna just looked at him, though she had gathered her composure enough to wave a hand in a slow movement, imploring him to continue. He shook his head at himself for delaying with proverbs, swallowed thickly and forced himself to begin. Feeling like his tongue wanted more to crawl into his throat than form words, he quietly told Arianna what he had told Mathias. Oddly, it came easier this time, though his entire body felt as taut as a bowstring and his heart felt like a hammer slamming against his rib cage.

When he finished, he looked up at Arianna. He'd lowered his gaze when he mentioned Sowa's flasks and been unable to meet hers after mentioning the poisoned wells but now he forced himself to look up at her, despite the sting in his eyes and the shame and sorrow and acute fear which weighed heavily on his shoulders and pulled at his guts.

Her eyes were wide but otherwise her face was horribly blank and her body hadn't gotten any less tense. Her chest rose and fell with her steady, measured breathing and the fingers of her left hand was clenched around one of the bracelets.

Maurus could hardly hear anything but the rush of blood in his ears and the steady thump of his heart, though he did notice a low rumble coming from Ash. It ceased abruptly when Arianna placed a hand on the demon's head. Her face still a mask, she looked down as she carefully folded the robe around the bracelets.

"Is this supposed to buy me?" she asked. There was something in her voice, a low thrum like that of a heavy, plucked string.

Despite his worry, Maurus' answer sprung from his lips without hesitation. "No," he said, affronted. For some reason, he continued, voice full of scorn as he spat: "Like I'd _ever_ try that."

Arianna set her staff against the ground and pushed herself to her feet and Ash sprang up as she did. Maurus couldn't find his tongue this time, so he simply looked at Arianna when she held out the bundle. Numbly, he accepted it, the soft material feeling unreasonably heavy.

"Don't throw it away," Arianna said and swept past him. Maurus didn't follow and by the time he thought he could speak again, she'd vanished from sight.

 _'I should have been prepared for this,'_ he thought sadly, raising a hand and covering his eyes. The tension was gone from his body. Now he simply felt empty and exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damnit, I'm late. Terribly so. Sorry 'bout that. I really hope you haven't lost patience.
> 
> I'm mildly sorry about the cliffhanger, but not really. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Can't decide if I really, really like it or if I think it's a mess, so let me know. Any input will be much appreciated, be it on structure, events, characters or pure grammar. I really hope next chapter will be easier to hammer out.


	14. Dealing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. I hope you like.
> 
> One note: I'm moving into some territories I'm not sure about. So if you, dear reader, stumble over something that makes you simply go "fuck this, I'm out", please leave a review telling me how I messed up. But I think I did OK.
> 
> Enjoy.

Chasing Through Hell

Dealing

Maurus raised his shield, feeling the impact of the spell hit, seeing tongues of flame lick harmlessly along its edges and swung his mace in a diagonal arc. The blow missed as his opponents stepped apart to avoid it and the middle opponent surged forward, taking a blow from Calen on his shield to get in close. His sword darted up in an attack that was the opposite number to Maurus', striking his neck from below before smacking against the side of his helmet and two numbing pulses of pain spread from the points of impact. Maurus snarled savagely, the sound becoming a roar as he dragged his weapon into a blow before his opponent managed to complete the three-point attack with a stab. He mostly hit with his broad forearm but it still flung the attacker several feet back to land on his back before he followed up with an attack to the orc on his right that sent him to the ground with a cry of pain.

Teeth grinding, he turned his shield and slammed its edge down into the shoulder of the attacker to his left, knocking him off balance. Before he could recover, Calen brought him to the ground with a bash of his shield and raised his mace for what would be a killing blow.

A flash of light filled Maurus' vision and his eyes blurred as his helmet turned so hot that he could smell the singed padding and feel his fur curl. He raised his shield and his mace, heart thudding an angry drumbeat against his chest and stomped blindly toward where the blast of fire had come.

"You're _dead._ Twice," rasped a voice flatly. His ears flicked in irritation, picking up a murmur and a familiar crackle of flame amid the buzz of the camp and he stopped abruptly. Then he threw his mace to the ground with a snarl and stood for a moment, clenching and unclenching his empty hand as his vision returned to normal.

"So are you," he ground out eventually, glancing at Mathias, who had stood up from where he'd been thrown. Red dust clung to his armor, making the dark skull designs on it look even more sinister. "A little higher and I'd gotten you in the neck."

An unsteady inhale made him look to the left, where he found Drim slowly getting up, his posture stiff from pain. Crava was still on the ground, his breathing unsteady because he tried to breathe carefully while his body craved as deep breaths as possible. A pang of guilt snapped through his anger and he waved his shield arm at the two. "Break. Calen, Shayla, fix them."

He didn't need to look at the shaman or the paladin to know that his brusque tone put them off, but despite their displeasure, they swiftly set to work. From the rest of the soldiers around Maurus came a collective sigh at the word 'break'. Most of them, particularly the ones that had participated and been downed during the latest exercise, were looking considerably more tired than usual, standing or sitting with a slight slump to in their posture despite their best efforts to hide it.

The continued crackle of flame made Maurus turn his eyes to Wiven. He looked unruffled, seeming almost ecstatic where he stood, seven feet from Maurus, with a proper fireball playing in his hands and a taunt in his eyes.

"Good. Now snuff that before anyone gets hurt," he growled. "And get us some water."

Wiven raised an eyebrow and waved a hand, trailing fading flame, at the barrel standing nearby.

"You're offense is impressive today. But this isn't the time for that ferocity," Mathias said flatly, making Maurus turn his head to him. He'd almost silently moved to stand beside Maurus while he'd spoken to the others. "It's demoralizing. And reckless."

"You're no use if your head roasts inside that helmet," Wiven agreed as he sauntered over to them.

Maurus' jaw clenched, pressing his teeth together so hard it almost hurt, but it was no use. The anger he'd built up during the mock battle, close to an actual battle rage, was slipping off him, like the heat from a pot that had been taken off the fire. As it did, he became more aware of how tired he felt, how tired the rest must be after a morning of constant drills and of the throbbing where Mathias had hit him.

"A few more and I'll hurt enough that I have to avoid fatal blows," he growled. Spoken out loud, the words sounded petulant and stupid but at least his annoyance with himself was something to focus on. He picked up his mace and glanced around at the tired soldiers.

"Training's over," he barked. "If anyone wants to spend their time properly, find Widget and get some practice with the bombs."

"Finally," Mathias said. "I think they might have revolted if you kept the pace you."

Maurus just grunted and began walking away. Mathias let out an exasperated groan, and Wiven said, in a low voice that Maurus almost failed to pick up: "Sometimes, his youth really shows, don't you think?"

Maurus almost felt grateful for the remark as it fanned the fading anger, making it easier to hold onto the emotion, but he didn't stop or reply to his friends. Instead, he kept walking, leaving them behind as he headed north, rather than south where their campsite was, and trudged toward the large tents he could see a good stone's throw away from their training area. As he walked, his eyes wandered toward the luminescent crystals looming over the plain and almost wished for an attack. He quickly shook that thought off though, feeling disgusted with himself. Even if the army was weathering each attack with more skill than the last, people _died_ in them and the colossi were still an unknown. He couldn't wish for battle just to keep his attention directed outward.

He ducked into the tent farthest away from the training ground, stepping into a long, dim space that smelled strongly of ale, sweat and smoke. It was maybe the size of a small inn, though far more open. Only the occasional table and the evenly spaced tent poles broke his field of vision to the makeshift counter made from wine barrels topped with wooden boards and there was maybe a quarter of the guests it could hold.

As he made his way around the people sitting and lying in sullen clusters between him and the counter, he noticed a feeble blue light shimmer on the left side of the counter, outlining the broad back of a tauren woman who sat, seemingly alone except for her white bear, on that side of the bar. On an impulse, he went around that side instead of simply sitting on the nearest stool.

The temperature dropped suddenly as he came near the tauren, going from stiflingly hot to the almost chilly temperature of Mulgore in the evening. He glanced around the black-furred tauren, looking over her bear and spotting a robed troll woman, her blue skin and turquoise hair turned even bluer by the shimmer of frost around her. Behind her, several other troll women looked deep in their cups already.

Satisfied that he'd been correct, he claimed the low stool beside the female tauren, relishing in the chill after over a month of constant heat, and called out to the troll woman behind the counter. A moment later, he had three dark bottles standing in front of him, next to his discarded helmet.

_'At least taking the Citadel was good for one thing,'_ he thought. Now that the Citadel was held by the Horde and the Alliance held Honor hold, steps had been taken to secure the peninsula properly and the supply lines were now so well-established that more than just the bare necessities came with the caravans. Quite a wide variety of goods, and services, were now available to the soldiers, though at the moment, not having to pay through the nose for wine seemed the most important to Maurus.

He tugged at the cork on one of the bottles but turned his head when he felt a gaze on him. He found the tauren looking at him at him, her eyes narrowed, nostrils flared.

He flicked an ear and steadily met the gaze of the tauren, who, with her charcoal fur and immaculate braids, looked decidedly Grimtotem. A small, detached part of him was wondering what he'd done to provoke such a reaction, but most of him was tensing in response to her hostile demeanor while his irritation swiftly grew into anger.

"Of all the room in here, you _had_ to sit there?" She asked darkly.

"Have I taken someone's seat?" Maurus asked in return, tone just shy of matching the other tauren's hostility. When she hesitated in answering, he turned his attention back to the bottle, pulled the cork from it and took a swig. "Blame your friend for making a refuge from the heat."

When he heard a heavy thump, he glanced left again and found that the bear had risen and slammed a paw down on the packed dirt. When his eyes met the bear's, it blew out a loud breath and clacked its teeth, keeping its teeth bared afterwards. Maurus looked from the bear to the tauren, who'd turned halfway away, yet still kept glaring at him out the corner of her eye. Eschewing the restraint and letting his look turn into a full glower, he said: You don't want to make a fight of this. I've skinned bigger bears than yours."

The tauren jerked her head back round to look straight at him, pure rage in her eyes. The bear thumped the ground again, though this time Maurus didn't glance at it, holding the tauren's gaze. His hand tightened around the neck of his wine bottle and he felt a rush of anticipation underneath his rage.

"Kiluq," said a rough, rolling voice and the tauren stiffened. With obvious effort, she pulled back and schooled her features into something less murderous. As she did, the troll added, firm and admonishing: "Sarge."

The interruption sliced through Maurus' restless belligerence, the anger he'd worked up slipping from him as he registered the latter word with blank surprise. Blinking, he glanced past the tauren, Kiluq, he supposed, to the green eyes of the troll mage on her other side. At first glance she looked simply annoyed, leaning on the counter, but her mouth was set in a hard line and the hand she had on the counter was covered by a fine layer of frost.

It was tempting to summon back the anger at the restrained threat, but Maurus held back and instead snorted out a breath. He waved a hand and grumbled: "Not a sergeant."

Kiluq had placed a hand on the neck of her bear and both looked calmer, but the latter still looked ready to pounce and the former's eyes were still angry and wary.

Maurus didn't know what her issue was, but he reminded himself that he hadn't acted with as much restraint as he should. He kept his gaze on the trio for a moment longer before turning forward.

"I'll stay here, quietly," he said flatly. He grabbed one of the unopened bottles and slid it to his left. "Peace," he added, half a question, half a demand. He stubbornly refused to glance back at Kiluq, instead raising his open bottle to his lips and doing his best to empty it. The drink was sour and unappealing coming down and seemed to irreparably douse his anger, which, as he picked up the second bottle, seemed petulant and embarrassing in hindsight.

Then again, the point had been specifically to _be_ angry and he missed it by the time he finished the second bottle, because the wine only managed to make him sluggish, giving him neither the sense of excitement nor the pleasant relaxed feeling he usually got from getting drunk. He looked down into the rough wood of the counter and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to remove it and take an axe to the barrel beneath so he could plunge his head into the wine inside. That would get him to the stage where he simply stopped caring pretty quickly.

Figuring the barkeep would take a dim view of that action, he instead cradled his head in one hand and held up a pair of coppers. Three more bottles were quickly deposited in front of him.

"He's going to drink himself right off that stool. Unsightly for a spirit walker," Kiluq said. She managed to sound at once disapproving and like she looked forward to his fall, though her volume suggested she hadn't meant for him to overhear. Despite himself, Maurus glanced at the tauren again, feeling only vague annoyance this time, remembering that, while most of the Grimtotem looked similar to her, there were far more black tauren who weren't in that tribe.

"Seems the place for it, doesn't it?" he asked. He tossed his head in the direction of the tent and its quiet, sullen inhabitants. Even most of those sitting in groups seemed more interested in their bottles than in their company. With a scoff he added: "I'm no walker. Can't you see the plate?"

Kiluq glanced at him, looking chagrined for a moment, but quickly looked back to her friend, ignoring him. Maurus returned his attention to the wine, taking another long draught and felt warmth spread across his skin. It took him a moment to realize that it had nothing to do with the alcohol and glanced to the side as Kiluq complained: "Aw, why did you stop?"

The troll, no longer bathed in the faint blue light of her frost magic, shrugged. "It's tiring in the long run."

"I hate the heat," Kiluq grumbled, almost petulantly. As the heat of the tent quickly seeped into Maurus' fur again, he found himself agreeing with her.

"We can't escape it forever," the troll said reasonably, lifting the bottle Maurus had pushed their way.

"I hate this place. I hate this war. I hated Stranglethorn, the Swamp and the Blasted Lands too."

The troll took a solid gulp of the bottle as Kiluq went on. "It feels like the swamp water still sits in my leather and I'll never get the dust out of Siho's or my fur. Why didn't we just stay in Winterspring?"

The troll upended the bottle as Kiluq's tirade gained momentum and Maurus sighed. For a few moments, he stayed in his seat, but Kiluq only seemed to get more into it, so with a grunt, he rose, grabbed the last bottle and his helmet and walked away. The cool was gone, Kiluq was just adding annoyance to his gloom without distracting him from it and she had one point: He _was_ acting unsightly.

Just before he left the tent, he thought he head the troll say something like 'he's gone, you can stop now', but the complaints didn't slow as he came out into the half-light of the Peninsula.

He made his way back toward the campsite, struggling to avoid swaying now that the rapid rise had sent the booze surging through his veins. As he did, he internally berated himself. It should be beneath him to act like he had. Distracting himself with anger was all well and good, but Mathias was right. He was pushing the others away and it was not fitting for a leader to take out his personal issues on his men. Trying to pick a fight with an admittedly bad-tempered stranger just for reminding him of things he wanted to forget wasn't excusable either.

_'And I already know this won't work till I'm unconscious,'_ he thought, putting the bottle to his lips in spite of the thought.

A series of flat, distant booms made him look southward, down across the sloping plain, past the unfinished watch tower in the south end of the Horde camp and the blues, whites and yellows of the Alliance camp, to the valley south of it all. He squinted as he looked at the clumsy, grey and blue shapes of gyrocopters and the flashes of light where explosives rocked the mountainside.

Around him people stopped or slowed, looking south like he did and the quality of the background murmur changed.

The reaction to the bombs was almost immediate and tiny black shapes swarmed down the slope like ants and as they closed, the distant sound of brass trumpets sounded. At that signal, the dwarves and gnomes along the lip of the valley began firing, raining down bullets and mortar shell on the rock flayers as they charged across the valley. The result was a terrifying reminder of the destructive power of engineers, as wide holes were torn in the host, thinning their number greatly, though failing to dissuade their charge. Maurus couldn't see into the closest end of the valley, but the fact that the rock flayers didn't come crawling up into the Alliance camp gave away that the Alliance had forces ready to meet the them.

He nodded to himself in faint approval. He had heard nothing of this, though that wasn't surprising. News did travel fast, but not across the Alliance-Horde divide. That was the extent he could make himself care though and as he made his way through the crowd, he only paid enough attention to idly note that as the rock flayers fought, the gyrocopters kept bombing the cave entrances.

People around him took a little longer to grow bored or remember they had places to be, though when they did, the crowd seemed to thicken with mass and urgency. Maurus found himself glowering at the people coming too close, not quite trusting his balance or the honesty of everyone around him.

Someone bumped into him, making him stagger and he bared his teeth, twisting to look for who it had been, only managing to almost overbalance himself. As he did, he padded the bags at his side, the motion habitual and unconscious, and frowned. He slipped his hand into the bag he usually kept health stones in and felt something smooth and round, before something hot stung his hand.

The wine bottle fell from his other hand and his heart leapt into his throat. He closed his hand around the small, smooth ball, ignoring the pain burning into his palm as he drew it out and hurled it up, as hard as he could. Covering his eyes with his forearm, he had just enough presence of mind to yell: "Down!"

He'd meant to throw it straight up, but when the explosion rang out, short, sharp and loud enough to leave his ears ringing, the weight of it hit him at an angle and he dropped to one knee to avoid stumbling backward. A handful pings sounded as metal pattered against his shoulders and neck and the pained exclamations erupting from around him made him glad he was in full armor.

He pushed himself to his feet, staggering and looked around. People in a wide ring around him looked disoriented, many of them clutching bleeding, but mostly superficial wounds. A few lay on the ground, moaning and a single orc in reddish leather armor lay terribly still, blood flowing from his cracked skull in quickly slowing pulses. Further away, people rushed to help or simply carried on walking.

After a moment of gawking, Maurus focused, searching the crowd for whoever had slipped the bomb into his pouch, but he hadn't seen whoever had hit him and with so many people both coming closer and leaving, none looked more suspicious than the others.

There was a sudden smell of grass and then thin, sickly-looking roots sprang from the ground, curling tightly around his limbs. He struggled instinctively against the roots, but despite their frail appearance, they held him with a strength he was completely unable to fight.

A large, brown-furred tauren, even taller and broader than Maurus himself, stepped up in front of him. The loose leather armor, decorated with smooth, yellow fur and, and the abundant bone charms and talismans in his hair, on his straight horns and thick wrists and around his neck, left no doubt that he was a druid. His expression left no doubt that he was angry.

He wasn't the only one. Some of the onlookers not wholly occupied with helping the wounded looked at him as well, expression darkening.

"The hell was that?" The druid asked, gesturing at the sky with a hand still trailing wisps of green.

Maurus' heartbeat was only just slowing down and the bare steel some of the other onlookers were holding weren't helping. "Us getting lucky," he said, voice slightly unsteady. He'd come so close to experiencing one of the things he'd feared since beginning to accept Widget's help. He pressed against his bonds again and grunted: "Let me go."

The druid's eyes narrowed and tossed his head to the side. Maurus followed the motion and saw the hostile onlookers closing and behind them, grunts in their familiar red armor were rushing forward. "Stay back," one of them, a tall orc, shouted and one of the others coolly smacked aside one of the approaching hostile orcs with the flat of his axe. "We'll take care of this."

"What was that?" The druid asked insistently and now that Maurus looked at him, the expression mixed outrage and incomprehension. The druid added: "Why would you _do_ that?"

Comprehension dawned on Maurus. There were plenty of areas where the tauren tribes clashed with the rest of the Horde, mostly concerning how to treat the land and the forsaken and arguments, minor clashes and small scale sabotage weren't uncommon. But unlike the forsaken, orcs or maybe blood elves, there was no way any tauren would ever further the Legion's cause.

"I tried to survive the live bomb someone slipped into my bag," he spat, as the grunts reached him. "Didn't you hear my warning?"

The druid's eyebrows rose, but he waved his hands as the grunts passed him, and the roots abruptly fell away, just in time for the grunts to close with Maurus, axes ready.

"Don't move," the leader ordered. Maurus clenched his teeth in annoyance and had to fight to contain himself as they claimed his weapons. "What was that?" He echoed the druid and Maurus rolled his eyes.

"You heard me before," he said flatly and the grunt leader nodded briskly, giving a grunt. He glanced around, his expression tightening.

"Camp?" He asked. Maurus told him, and the grunt barked a few orders and they set off, the druid in tow, leaving behind three of the grunts. One the way, the grunt leader, Kal, interrogated Maurus with stony insistence. Maurus simply repeated the little he'd noticed several times, realizing as he did how inattentive he'd been. He had no idea whether Kal believed him.

He ended up sitting in the camp for hours, guarded by the grunts and slowly sobering up. Mathias, Wiven and Arianna were all absent, but the grunts questioned everyone else, who either vouched for Maurus or, at worst, expressed their dislike at the same time as their doubt that he would willingly work against the Horde.

He found that a little encouraging, though mostly he chafed under the scrutiny of the grunts.

Eventually Payta appeared in the camp and her vouchsafe seemed enough to satisfy Kal, though only to the degree that he left a grunt behind, a troll Maurus didn't care to remember the name of, and told Maurus not to go anywhere without him.

* * *

"Who's the blue guy?" Mathias said in greeting when he and Wiven returned. Wiven looked more ruffled than he'd been when Maurus had last seen him, but both of them looked considerably more relaxed.

"Apparently, my warden," Maurus grumbled. The bored-looking troll, sitting beside a few of the trolls belonging to the camp, lifted the manacles lying beside him in greeting.

"At least he doesn't look obsessive," Wiven said lazily.

Maurus raised an eyebrow at him, wondering where that comment came from.

"You didn't seem _that_ out of control," Mathias said. There was a question in his tone and there might have been a slight hint of concern in it, thought the latter was so faint as to be almost impossible to hear.

"They suspect me of treason," Maurus said darkly. His troll grunt snorted in almost perfect unison with Mathias, though Mathias' snort was much more forceful than the troll's.

"That's ridiculous," Mathias said, with complete conviction, but immediately afterward, he added, in the tone used for asking what had gotten the fun troublemaker in trouble: "What did you do?"

Maurus shook his head and recounted his story again.

"That's new," Wiven said, when Maurus finished.

Mathias had looked around the moment Maurus reached the part with the bomb and now he simply looked at Maurus, the fingers of his left hand tapping the hilt of dagger. He opened his mouth, but Maurus spoke over him: "It wasn't Zarul. The elf's friends would have noticed, or the animals, and I doubt he's stupid enough to infiltrate now that he can't fly to get out quickly."

The impatient energy left Mathias as he slumped a little. "If only it was that easy."

"More traitors," Wiven said. He sounded simply irritated, but there was a wild fury in his eyes and a flicker of light played over his hands.

' _I wonder if he'll explode one day,'_ Maurus thought absently. His magic did seem to show itself more and more often.

"No people without them," Mathias agreed, his lips twitching in a bitter smile. He looked back to Maurus and said: "Maybe it's good you got someone to watch over you."

"He's not here for that," Maurus said.

"Won't hurt," Mathias said with a shrug.

"Unless someone stabs him in the back," Maurus grumbled. "That would make me popular."

The troll frowned at Maurus. Mathias did as well, but without the hostility. "That's a tad more pessimistic than usual," he said. "I'm not sure if I should be proud or sad."

Maurus snorted. "That's the second time I've almost been blown to bits, in camp, _without_ the goblins having an active hand in it. Last time, Zarul managed sabotage and discord in one. This time-"

He trailed off, remembering how his thoughts had immediately gone to Widget's explosives. "This time, he could have gone for revenge as well. I've given him plenty of reason to hate me."

' _I've given someone else that too,'_ came the unbidden thought and there was a cold twist in his belly, but he tried to push it aside. He tossed his head like he would to scare off flies and mentally chided himself. Hate was definitely an exaggeration and irrelevant for the moment. That truth was weak comfort though.

Mathias hummed in thought. "If the Legion's servant are as few as we think, it seems stupid to risk them on revenge."

"Not if there was an additional goal," Wiven said. He waved a hand in vague direction of the plain of colossi to the north. "Had he exploded as planned, it would have looked like a misfire. Light knows that any sane man is wary of the goblins' creations, but if they begin exploding in people's pockets, we might stop using them."

"Weakening us," Maurus said darkly, "and maybe even isolating the goblins. But one won't-"

He rose quickly, along with Mathias. Wiven got to his feet as well, though his movement was a languid, unconcerned one, showing none the alarm Maurus' did.

There was a clink of metal and Maurus glanced back at the grunt, who'd also risen and let out a growl.

"Go find command. I guess I'm not going anywhere near."

The troll shook his head and Mathias rolled his eyes.

"When you're done, try to find the elf. I'll do the same."

Mathias frowned for a moment, but then something seemed to click and he nodded even as he turned around.

"If you explode, I'll be disappointed. I'm not done beating you up," he said over his shoulder.

"Likewise," Maurus snorted. To Wiven he added: "Aren't you on water-duty?"

"Filled my quota for now," he answered. "With any luck, something will need burning now. I barely got to singe you."

Maurus glowered halfheartedly after the elf as he followed Mathias out of the camp. Then he turned it on the troll. "You're not going to do anything?"

"Here to watch ya. Not ta stop ya."

That was something at least.

Maurus took Payta aside and told her the bare bones of it, suggesting permanent guard on the camp, before going out to look for Arianna, feeling much more worried about her than about the traitor problem itself. He felt the worry very acutely, despite his rational mind telling him it was out of proportion to the danger to her.

He had no idea where Arianna's secretive group had set up, due to her reluctance to bring him, but he knew the main body of the blood elves had set up along the half-finished tower further south and he had a vague idea where some of the more suspect elements, like warlocks, were situated in the camp.

He had little luck, though it was hard to judge whether it was because none of those he asked knew or if they just didn't want to tell him. Over half of them were dismissive, bordering on rude, while only a few showed him anything but basic courtesy.

And while he searched, the troll walked blithely along behind him, manacles slung over his back. Only when Maurus stumbled on the way away from a particularly rude warlock did he speak at all.

"Think ya should go back."

Maurus blinked slowly and frowned at him. "Why?"

"Ya dead on your feet, mon. Not dragging ya back and it'd be very, very boring waiting for ya when ya fall asleep face-first in the ground."

Maurus opened his mouth and couldn't resist the loud yawn that struggled out. After a moment of internal debate, he grudgingly followed the troll's suggestion. He had a point, seeing as Maurus hadn't managed any sleep since Arianna had walked off early that morning.

* * *

He woke the next day feeling physically well-rested but emotionally exhausted. There was a heavy, dark gloom in his head and the embarrassment and guilt of drowning his sadness first in anger and then in drink, only added to it.

He lay in the heavy heat of the tent for a time, mentally berating himself for being childish while he struggled to make himself actually get up. Eventually, he managed to stifle the self-admonishment, telling himself to own his mistakes and his sadness.

Both would be hard, but at least he had a clear grasp on how to fix the most recent of the former and that thought was enough to motivate him to set his elbows against the ground and push himself up into a sitting position.

He frowned as he looked toward the tent flap and noticed that the small, empty bag he'd placed there had been knocked over and the scraps and pieces of junk he'd lain on it now lay strewn a hand's breadth from his hooves. Then the explosion flashed in his mind and instead of worrying about what the intruder might have taken, his heartbeat quickened at the thought of what might have been left behind.

After a few moments of frantically looking around the tent, he found nothing out of place and only then did it occur to him how foolish his actions were. It was as unlikely as to be almost impossible that he would have woken in time to avoid a live bomb, _if_ someone would even attempt that again and a small, troubling voice in the back of his head made him suddenly acutely aware of his bare chest and legs and how open that left him to one of the many virulent poisons he knew existed.

Not to mention the possibility of just setting the tent on fire.

He snorted loudly, tossed on his trousers and his belt and crawled out of the tent.

His stomach flipped with joy and an immediate subsequent sadness as his eyes instantly found blonde hair and red robes. A green-tinged light flickered over the side of her face, cast by the flame burning in the rough shape of a wind serpent in her upraised palm.

Maurus stood watching her for a moment, torn between leaving her to her thoughts and going over to her. He'd just decided and lifted his hoof to step toward her when she glanced back at him. Her face was a blank mask, though she looked as terribly tired as she had when he'd last seen her, even dishevelled now that he looked at her hair, and she simply held his gaze before inclining her head subtly toward the spot beside her. Even before she did, Maurus had taken the next step, deciding that he didn't care to stand around hesitating anymore. He eased himself down beside her and, not quite sure of what to say, simply nodded to the fire construct, saying: "I didn't know you could do that."

Arianna shrugged as the little fire creature flew in a small loop over her hand, a coil of brilliant, almost solid flame.

"I guess I shouldn't have expected you to be less skilled than Wiven."

She gave him a flat look that made her agreement with his statement abundantly clear and the expression was so familiar that he felt more at ease despite it being no warm expression. As if to stress her silent answer, the little fire serpent circled her hand before leaping of it into the air and coming apart in a shower of sparks. Maurus tilted his head in acknowledgement.

A few moments passed in silence before he glanced back at his tent and asked: "Did you see anyone near my tent?"

She studied him impassively and just when he thought she wouldn't answer, her expression changed slightly and she said dismissively: "I think you kicked the pile down yourself. I heard it."

He flicked an ear and carefully his tentative smile back, relieved and a little gratified. He'd been setting that pile up every time he left the tent or went to sleep for a while now and he'd only knocked it over at the very beginning. More importantly, if he'd kicked it, it would have fallen outward and he doubted its collapse made much noise, even to elvish ears.

"I'm glad you're alright," Maurus said. At Arianna's brief look of disbelief he added, waving a hand at her face: "We'll, except for your lack of sleep."

She blinked and rubbed an eye with the back of her hand, the gesture oddly childish, betraying how tired she was. Maurus had the sudden urge to reach out to her, in support or comfort, but restrained himself. Impassively, she said: "You looked for me."

"I was _this_ close to being so much steak and scrap," he said a little wryly, holding up two fingers so they almost touched. Quietly and seriously and with a bit of hesitation fluttering from his stomach into his voice, he continued: "I was worried."

A hint of a wan smile appeared on Arianna's face. For a while she said nothing and Maurus found himself missing the bones and tools he'd worked with the previous week, for something to do with his hands. He honestly wanted to simply charge ahead and convince her to look past his mistakes, but he saw little hope of that, considering he hadn't forgiven himself for it either. And even if he had, he would be an insensitive fool if he thought he could simply convince her like that.

"I asked around. The Grimtotem has quite a reputation."

Maurus had been caught up in his own thought, so it took him a moment to register the statement and another to recover from the sudden subject change. He nodded slowly, eyes on Arianna's face.

"You might have gotten lucky," she said and Maurus' lips twitched as instant, violent anger flared in his belly, the faces of Sowa and Tuga flashing before his mind's eye. "Word is that one doesn't leave their hunting parties."

Those words, and the unease in them doused the anger almost as quickly.

"That's just-" he began, but he trailed off, remembering the last time he saw the pair and feeling cold settle in his stomach. They hadn't spoken to him when left for Windshear Crag but simply watched him go in stony silence. He'd thought at the time they looked worried, maybe somewhat angry and he still thought they'd been worried, but now that he thought about it, seemingly with more clarity than before, they'd looked _pained_ , with anger lurking beneath heavy sadness.

He blinked and swallowed heavily, feeling like someone had stuck a knife in his gut as he hit upon two more words that described them at that moment: grimly determined.

Maurus almost jumped when he felt her hot hand on his arm and his vision was a little blurry when he looked at Arianna and found a hint of regret on her face before she regained the wan smile and said: "I'm glad you didn't fall victim to that. And not just because I'd be dead if you had."

It was the oddest thing, some distant part of him thought, that she could, in two sentences, induce a gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal, soothe it somewhat and almost immediately spark a thrilling hope, making the two emotions swirl dizzyingly in him. With only slight hesitance, he covered her hand with his and said, voice more steady than he felt: "So am I. Do you-"

He trailed off, not really sure how to end that sentence. Again, he wanted to do something, to act, but he couldn't force this. Arianna had the right to make up her own mind.

She took a deep breath. Then another. Then she finally said, the words obviously taking some effort: "You didn't hurt me. And you've amply demonstrated that you regret it."

' _That's true. If an understatement, especially after getting to know you,'_ he thought, his heartbeat quickening as the direction of the conversation made his hope grow. Outwardly, he showed no reaction except for nodding solemnly.

"We do all make mistakes," Arianna said slowly. She studied her right hand as she conjured a jagged, dark flame. He could hear it took effort to keep her voice steady as she added: "Some would say my people have made a few, particularly those of us who took up the enemy's weapons."

Maurus ran a thumb over her hand and grunted. "I'm not sure," he said, the words honest but hard get out. He forced some of his misgivings to the back of his mind and simply stated what he'd seen: "It seems your craft only harms the enemy. And possibly yourself. The demons are already here."

Arianna's eyes warmed and her lips twitched. "That's not what you said at first."

Maurus shook his head ruefully. "You made _some_ sense," he admitted. Honestly, he was far from happy with the demonic magic, but the issue didn't seem as simple anymore. "I guess the Warchief has the right of it, for now. And I can't help but admire your strength."

A while passed before Arianna replied: "Did you know you showed me more courtesy when we met than many of my own people do?"

Maurus felt his eyebrows rise high on his head as he looked at her and spotted the hint of pain beneath her faint smile. At first he had no idea how to respond, but then he recalled bits and pieces of what Wiven and Arianna had told them of the rebuilt Quel'Thalas and asked, the indignation in his voice directed at the blood elves at large: "Your warlocks aren't the only ones leaning on demons for power, are they?"

Arianna gave a minute shake of her head.

"Hypocrites," Maurus spat.

Arianna tilted her head to the side in a gesture that wasn't quite agreement.

"We're more suspicious since the Fall," she said, sounding almost like she found it completely reasonable. She hesitated and Maurus thought she looked almost fragile, for the first time, when she added: "Now that we've seen signs of renegade blood elves, they aren't happy with those who walk along the edge."

She must have seen his thoughts in his eyes, because she quickly added, voice grumbling: "Of course, the stupid ones disagree with my company too."

Maurus felt like he'd been slapped and Arianna only seemed to realize what she'd said when she saw his expression change. She blinked and looked momentarily regretful and Maurus schooled his expression in response, swallowing down the hurt and annoyance.

When he lifted his hand from hers, a flicker of worry appeared in her eyes, but it only last till he reached out for her shoulder and he felt intense relief when she allowed him to press her gently against his side.

"Are you an outcast?" he asked seriously.

Arianna considered for a moment before answering.

"Not quite. Many are just wary," she said. He searched her face, but she didn't seem to be lying.

"Do we drag you down?"

This time her jaw set and her voice was completely firm when she said: "Not in the eyes of anyone I care about."

_'That's a relief',_ Maurus thought. Out loud, he said: "I think we're getting off track."

"Maybe," Arianna hedged.

"Can you forgive what I did?" Maurus asked, feeling abruptly like he was standing before the executioner's block.

Arianna took what seemed like a long time to answer. "I want to."

Another moment passed, before she asked: "What do you want?"

_'That was a very broad question,'_ Maurus thought and shrugged. He considered his words for a moment. "To rise above what I've done. Zarul's head on a spear." He paused, caught Arianna's eyes and said, simply, firmly: "You."

A smile stretched Arianna's pale lips and she reached up, running the back of her hand down his cheek. Her fever-hot skin was soft and smooth against his fur and the rough scar where Zarul's claw had punched through.

"Likewise," she said quietly.

Feeling a grin spread his lips, Maurus impulsively pulled Arianna into his lap and enveloped her in his broad arms. She reacted with a little yelp that made him think for a moment he'd made a mistake, but she relaxed almost immediately, leaning back against his chest and warming it as surely as the joy within him. Once again, he noticed that she felt remarkably soft and with her weight resting mostly on and against him, he couldn't help but notice that her robe really wasn't that thick.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she said, though her tone and the way she adjusted her position just the slightest bit removed any bite there might have been in the words, as well as reminding him that, without his armor, there wasn't much covering him either. "We're not sharing a bedroll just yet."

"I wouldn't expect that," Maurus said, his voice a little low. Spurred by a flash of exhilaration, he added teasingly: "I understand if you find the prospect intimidating."

More seriously, he added: "Would _that_ disgrace you?"

Her hair brushed against him as she turned to look up at him and he tilted his head so he could turn an eye down to look at her. "You do know I'm not exactly inexperienced, right?"

His jaw clenched at the thought of someone else touching Arianna, but out loud he said, mostly truthfully: "I should hope not. That would be a very long century."

Arianna gave a quiet snort and relaxed slightly, though he doubted he would have noticed it had she not been leaning against him.

"But I meant bedding a non-elf," Maurus said. "You said your people mean everything to you. I can't part you from them, no matter how much of an arrogant, grim, unappreciative bunch they are."

That put a tension in her again and he looked at her in concern, seeing her expression had darkened again.

"You really don't mind my experience? Some of the young- The humans do, at least," she said.

Maurus snorted. "Trying to enforce those human rules on tauren would result in violence. I think Payta would rip someone's head off if she had to live like that."

His words failed to get the expected laugh from her. Instead her expression remained dark and he closed his arms tighter around her, hugging her to him.

"I've mostly made my peace with your fel magicks. I doubt the rest of the bones under your rug can drive me away. I'm just worried about your relation to your people."

Arianna blinked and something bright flashed in her eyes before her expression became determined. She breathed deeply and then said, voice almost airy: "Do you remember how I got my staff?"

Maurus nodded, his eyes flicking to the length of smooth, black wood and the fel crystal held in its rootlike top. He frowned as a cold suspicion coiled in his gut.

"You can get surprisingly far by seduction. Felspeaker Azut missed the elfin female and didn't seem to be able to think with more than one head at a time." Arianna shrugged. "Though, being a satyr, that might be to be expected. Easiest assassination I've ever made, after I'd ridden him to exhaustion."

Despite the Arianna's nonchalance seeming mostly genuine, the words made Maurus' insides roil with a volatile mix of disgust and simple fury and a sudden desire for violence coursed through him, blisteringly hot and frustrating as hell because he had no reasonable target for it. It took him a moment to gather himself and stop his growl, but when he did, he focused on keeping his tongue in check and gave Arianna a squeeze. Before he could form a response, Arianna added: "And Mathias is right. I might have to help sustain my race."

Maurus thoughts, which he'd barely got into order from the initial shock of the first revelation, were again thrown into disarray by Arianna's words and it took a number of deep breaths and a short while to get his emotions back under a modicum of control. When he did, he lowered his gaze from the sky, which it'd drifted to while he got his bearings, and muttered numbly: "You don't pull your punches, Arianna."

She looked up into his eyes, a defiant tilt to her head, though there was worry behind it too. Her voice was carefully bland as she said: "Neither did you. Getting it all out in the open seemed to be for the best."

Maurus let that sink in for a few moments, mulling over what he could and should say. It took him longer than he would have liked and judging by the worry slowly breaking through Arianna's control, longer than she would have liked too. Unable to quickly get his thoughts in order, he gave her another squeeze as he thought. He'd never even considered that cloak and dagger could entail that method, even though he, now that he thought about it, could remember at least one tauren tale going something like that. Though there, the seduced Tokan got drugged by the heroine before anything happened.

Finally, he said: "Kids. I'll, we'll cross that stream when I get to it. About-" He stopped, closed and opened his eyes and said, with a firm tone that was almost as much for his ears as for Arianna's: "I can't hold your actions against you. And I won't. You were hardly beholden to me then. Not sure you are now either."

Arianna let out a sigh and leaned back against him, seeming mostly satisfied.

"It is kind of scary that you could kill just after." It came out in a low mutter, slipped out really.

"It made it easier. It wasn't very pleasant, but it worked," Arianna said, a note of distaste in her voice. "He was too much on his guard the rest of the time and that way it took a while before the others noticed. I wouldn't have made it to that clearing without a lead."

They fell into silence and Maurus thought. He'd gotten things into a semblance of order, but he doubted he would get everything sorted properly soon. For now though, he would call himself satisfied with the feeling of Arianna nestled within his arms. A thought occurred to him and he said: "You never answered my question. Will it disgrace you?"

"The rumor mill has us being far further along than we are, so it won't change much." She shifted, turning around in his lap and pressing against his arms so she could face him properly. He adjusted his arms as she did, ending up with one hand broad on the small of her back and one below that, resting over the curve of her backside. His mouth curled in a lazy smirk, caused in part by the their position and Arianna's lack of protest, but also owing to the sudden, errant thought of how _odd_ it felt that his hand could slip so far down without being stopped by a tail.

Arianna seemed to sense his amusement, raising her eyebrow a fraction of an inch, but she didn't question it. Instead she kept looking at him with warmth in her eyes and defiance in the set of her jaw and the curve of her smile. "We might as well give them more to work with."

Maurus' smile widened and he leaned in toward her, tilting his head and closing his eyes as Arianna's hands firmed on the sides of his head. Her lips met his, fever-hot, soft but chapped, and quite small compared to his. Her thumbs rubbed pleasant, warm circles along his cheeks and her lips parted, spreading over more of his lips as she ran her small tongue across them. Without thinking, he pressed her toward him and his own mouth opened, his tongue coming out to meet Arianna's.

He tasted a hint of wine, but mostly he noticed the buzz, like the faintest hint of was ever present in the air of Outland, as his tongue pushed back Arianna's and entered her mouth. That lasted for a single heartbeat before Arianna drew back and a flash of disappointment went through him as he opened his eyes.

Arianna was looking at him, a little wide-eyed , a faint tinge of red in her cheeks. Her lips were glistening, as were her chin and a little of her cheeks. She didn't look exactly displeased though and that chased away the disappointment, leaving him simply looking at her as he felt his quickened heartbeat and a light contentment.

His lips quirked as he asked cheerfully: "That bad?"

Arianna blinked and her mouth quirked in a smirk as she gave her head a shake. "We are somewhat mismatched."

She withdrew one hand from his head and wiped her lower face with it. Maurus tilted his head as she did, raised an eyebrow and flicked his ears demonstratively up at his horns. Arianna snorted.

"I didn't really appreciate how big your mouth is," she said. Her smirk grew more wry. "Or how much tongue you have."

In response, Maurus rolled out his tongue and real surprise showed on Arianna's face. She drew the other hand from his head, holding it next to his tongue and her look grew almost astonished.

A mirthful laugh burst from him before he withdrew his tongue. "I _am_ a lot bigger than you."

At that Arianna's eyes darted around, looking past Maurus and to either side. As she did, Maurus noticed the rest of the camp for the first time since he'd sat down next to Arianna and saw that they hadn't gone unnoticed. A couple of trolls in the group at the other end of the campsite were leering, grins spread around their tusks while some of the others shot them furtive glances. He sent them a glare and they returned their attention to the people beside them. Mostly.

He'd only looked away for a moment and his attention went straight back to Arianna when she stuck out her tongue, which barely reached two thirds of the way to her chin, before pulling it back between her lips. Maurus was half-fascinated by the small, pink tongue and half-amused at how childish she had looked. He decided not to mention that and instead said lightly: "Is that all?"

"No. I see a point in lying about that," Arianna said drily.

Maurus shrugged. "I guess we'll just have get used to the differences." He looked her up and down, making no effort to hide his enjoyment as he took in the slight curves hidden beneath her red robe and raised one hand along Arianna's back and lowered the other. He grinned, pretty sure it looked a little mischievous, met Arianna's pleased gaze and said, as he pressed gently on her: "I think you might come to appreciate that difference."

Arianna put both her hands on his horns and pushed back, though her eyes lit with something impish. "We're not sharing yet," she said.

"We could," Maurus teased.

"I'd like to adjust first," she said, her hands falling down to his cheeks, below his eyes.

"No way to do that but to throw yourself into it," Maurus said warmly, leaning forw

The second kiss was only marginally less clumsy than the first, but it was promising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, was it worth waiting for? I would really love to hear your opinions, especially on the last bits here with Arianna, because I'm on new ground and really want to hear how I did. Positive or negative, I greatly appreciate the feedback.
> 
> Also, I apologize for the long wait. I really struggle with this these weeks.
> 
> Cheers.


	15. Elusive Enemies

Chasing Through Hell

Elusive Enemies

"Cradle robber."

Maurus lifted his chin from the top of Arianna's head and gave the approaching Mathias a flat look. Mathias answered the look with one of blithe amusement and tilted his head to the side, before a bit of surprise showed on his face. "Oh, she crashed."

"Yes," Maurus said, voice pitched low. Arianna had fallen asleep quickly after the kisses they'd shared and been sleeping quietly against his chest since then. He would have been put out if she hadn't been so obviously exhausted, but as it was, he was content to let her be, enjoying the feel of her, despite her warmth being almost uncomfortable by now and the spot of fur wet by her drool beginning to itch. The latter was a source of faint amusement too though, as were the faint snores, even if those were likely a relic of when Mathias bashed her nose crooked.

Turning his wandering attention back to Mathias, Maurus said: "I don't think she'd appreciate you calling her that."

Mathias shrugged, unconcerned as he began strapping on his armor. "She might as well deal."

"You've done quite a bit for us, in your own, frustrating way," Maurus said, giving a half-wry smile that vanished just as quickly as it appeared. "I'd be thankful if you didn't make a habit of throwing our different lifespan in our faces."

Mathias looked unmoved and Maurus considered pressing the point but decided against it. Instead, he sighed and shifted his grip on Arianna. He made to rise, but stopped as he spotted a glitter in Mathias' pale eyes and the fact that he was looking past him. The slightest bit of apprehension managed to coalesce in his stomach before Mathias spoke, voice teasing: "Was she any good? Or is she too easily exhausted?"

Maurus had half-turned by the time Mathias spoke and the indignation the words summoned crashed against the mirth that Wiven's stunned, appalled face, poking out from his tent, raised, freezing Maurus in his tracks. Wiven's eyes trailed from Maurus' hooves to his naked chest and Arianna's still snoring form and he groaned, tipping the balance and making Maurus laugh. After a moment where neither Maurus nor Mathias spoke, he shook his head and said wearily: "It's too early for you to traumatize me."

Maurus snorted, but let the irritation flare and fade and said flatly: "We're both outside and _clothed."_

"Barely," Mathias said. He waved a now gauntleted hand at Wiven and said: "And he knows as well as I how practical robes can be."

Maurus rolled his eyes as he turned back away from Mathias, catching Wiven looking even more disturbed, and knelt next to his own tent. A half-strangled sound made him look toward Wiven again, blowing out an exasperated breath. "What?"

Wiven, who had schooled his expression, pointed and said: " _That's_ her tent."

"Which I can't put her in without uprooting it or rolling her in," Maurus answered flatly and carefully entered his own tent. Gently, he lowered Arianna to his bedroll and pushed the loose strands of hair from her face, before he, quietly, if possibly needlessly, gathered his clothes, armor and weapons and exited the tent.

Wiven was still looking at him, with the expression of someone who'd just realized something and Maurus raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"You're actually-" Wiven began slowly.

"Seeing where life leads us," Maurus interrupted him. Beginning to dress himself, he asked: "Are you going to be a hindrance?"

There was a pause and Maurus had donned his chain mail when Wiven answered.

"No," Wiven said, sounding far more collected and sober than usual and the simply statement made Maurus relax a little. In spite of Wiven's faults, especially his increasingly unhinged demeanor, Maurus actually liked him and would have been sad to clash with him over this.

"Good. Then I don't have to beat the stupid out of you," Maurus said firmly. He turned his head toward Wiven and found a trace of unease in his carefully schooled features.

"Not everyone will like this," he said.

Maurus tightened a strap with a quick jerk and answered: "I don't care for most of the blood elves I've met. I'll live and they'll get used to it."

Mathias snorted and Maurus glanced to him, finding a smirk on his friend's face.

"And yours aren't a problem either?" He asked, glancing around the camp. Maurus followed his gaze but found little to dishearten him, seeing as no one spared them a second glance now. Even his warden had apparently lost interest and joined the other trolls.

"Someone probably already has us in bed. And I have you for friends. My reputation has probably suffered as much as it is going to."

"Thanks," Mathias said drily and Wiven sniffed.

"I have to concern myself with my unit's opinions though," Maurus said. "Quick breakfast, then we gather for training."

* * *

"They're hobbling free enterprise! It's demotivating, discourages innovation, reduces production speed and makes us all worse off!"

"Maybe we're getting fewer 'unfortunate accidents'," Maurus answered the seething Widget walking beside him. She'd met up with him, Arianna and the rest of the unit when the army began moving, proclaiming herself their attached zapper. Since then, she'd been ranting about the steps that had been taken after three more explosions and a handful of deaths had proved that there was cause for concern. Those steps entailed additional grunts to supplement those posted there after Ven'Zarul's attack, supervisors for the goblins and a strict set of rules for when, how and to whom the goblins were allowed to sell their wares. The result was just shy of the Horde army proper claiming total right to the explosives.

"What'd you say if you had someone looking over your shoulder when you made your scrimshaw, _and_ that you could only sell them to one particular buyer?" Widget said, agitated.

"I'd tell you to get off my back," Maurus said, tone mostly amiable. "And I don't think they're comparable. Your bombs are a bit more unpredictable and a bit less common."

"We're not the only ones that know how to make them," Widget said irritably. "There's loads of other engineers in the camp. They're not on a leash."

Maurus gave a nod that indicated he saw her point, but said: "They don't have as easy access to materials though. You control that, right?"

Widget blinked. "Maybe. Mostly. Yeah, I guess," she said sullenly. "End result is still that we're not as prepared as we could for them!"

 _'Thank you for reminding me,'_ Maurus thought sarcastically as his eyes followed the swing of Widget's hand. Out past the army, to the east, the massive shards of crimson rose, glittering, over a sea of red sand, across which black figures prowled in the hundreds. They looked as distant as they had been an hour ago, but Maurus wondered if, just maybe, they had grown closer and he couldn't help feeling like he was waiting for an inevitable rockslide.

Two actually, though the worry for the ordinary kind of rockslide was less sensible. The soft slopes of the mountains on his left side had been worn down by the weather of Zangarmarsh and then toppled by the fury of the Portal's collapse during the Second War, making the slopes much kinder and safer to ascend. That was, after all, the reason they were taking this route, skirting the edge of the colossi's territory and going over the mountains rather than braving the narrow passes further south, which would surely be choke-points. But he couldn't help but think back to Demon Fall Canyon and the showers of rock and constant attacks.

And he was on the vanguard again, even if he wasn't at the exact front of it this time.

At least they had a solid presence of scouts this time, in the form of light cavalry and flyers, ranging ahead and up the slopes, and the march wasn't as exhausting as the others across the Peninsula. Just hours after leaving Falcon Watch, which the budding construction had been dubbed for some inexplicable reason, Hellfire Peninsula had begun living less and less up to its name as the temperature rapidly dropped to merely warm and the air became tinged with moisture and a faint smell of old rot and vibrant, alien life.

"Tell me, what _are_ these?"

Maurus' gaze dropped from the heights to Arianna at her quiet words. She was walking beside him, Ash darting around her feet and was holding her free hand up toward him, wrist tilted so that the long sleeve of her usual red gown slid back and revealed the bracelet she wore.

Feeling a spark of joy just at the sight, he smirked, hidden by his helmet and said: "Bracelets."

Arianna sniffed and affected an unimpressed look. "The signs, Cow."

Maurus made a show of looking over the bone and said: "Isn't it lax of you to wear something you aren't familiar with?"

Arianna raised an eyebrow and said: "You seemed so happy. I didn't want to ungrateful by asking questions."

Maurus snorted. "Swiftness, nimbleness." Feeling a little foolish, he hesitated before adding: "Purity."

Arianna snorted, a sound that was echoed by Mathias and Wiven, who were both walking along, in front of and beside her respectively. Her expression clearly asked the amused question: 'Really?'

"Can't hurt to have a little cleansing charm," Maurus said, shrugging with more nonchalance than he felt. "You _did_ admit that your craft isn't harmless."

Arianna tilted her head in a gesture of vague agreement. "Sometimes, you seem to remember too well."

"You're opposed to me hanging onto you every word?"

She smirked. "When you use them against me, yes."

"You'd get bored if I didn't."

"Probably," she allowed pleasantly and Maurus had a sudden urge to hug her to him. Having his hands full with shield and mace and his body covered in hard steel discouraged that idea though, as much as the situation itself did. It really wasn't the time for physical affection. Maurus wasn't even sure they ought to be talking as they did, because a small part of him kept insisting he should be quiet and carefully listening as well as watching for the enemy.

A larger part of him reminded him that they had extensive scouts around the main army and that they should expect warning unless the attack came from beneath the earth. Which again reminded him of Demon Fall Canyon and as such, didn't help him relax much after all.

"Does the situation really warrant such worry?" Arianna asked. She'd stepped in close to him and spoke in a tone he was sure couldn't be heard more than a foot or two away.

"Don't know. Does it?" he replied, catching her eyes and the tension behind her relaxed demeanor.

"You're getting entirely too observant," she said wryly.

"No such thing," Maurus said, his lips curling.

Arianna looked up into the sky. It too was changing. For the first time since passing through the Portal, the strange sky was obscured by real clouds, faint, almost invisible ones that had made the climb over the mountains. The cloud cover was more pronounced along the tops of the mountains, taking on an blue tint, but still far from opaque. "We're unlikely to be caught off guard."

"Wouldn't be surprised if they pulled something off anyway," Maurus said.

"Will you let the experienced, older woman soothe you or not?"

"Maybe later," Maurus said in a low rumble, finding himself grinning.

"Getting ahead of yourself again," Arianna said.

Maurus shrugged. "It's- he began, but cut himself off as horns began blaring from up the slope. Horde signals, but not from the army proper. It came from the west, from the scouts or those that had been ferried ahead on zeppelins, as well as from the windriders circling above, high enough that they could see much farther than the soldiers on the ground.

Maurus' mirth vanished, giving his tension full reign, now that he knew something was coming, but not what.

"Anyone catch sight of anything, speak up," Maurus barked, scanning the mountains and the air. He'd learned the signals by now, and if he wasn't mistaken, they said flying enemies was coming from two sides and... Artillery from the west? That seemed odd, and like something that should have been noticed sooner, but he looked in that direction anyway and saw a flock of what he assumed to be windriders fall into a dive while something rose up to meet them. The flyers met, the units splitting apart like startled birds, but a lot of the shapes that had risen in response to the windriders simply kept going, flying down the slope.

"Range, out," Maurus shouted. Around him, similar orders sounded and the clatter of weapons being prepared and the buzz and crackle of magic being shaped added themselves to the noise. Then a sharp crack of thunder rang out behind Maurus and he whirled in time to see fading flame and billowing smoke, both tinged with toxic green. It took a moment for the smoke to dissipate, so he heard the pained screams before he saw blood and broken bodies, and both was be swallowed up by a series of similar detonations.

Maurus' heart leapt into his throat and it felt like it pulled hard on his stomach. He looked back west and saw the winged shapes coming in fast now but he hardly cared. A memory resurfaced from the two days back and he turned his head: "Was that-"

"Mortars." The answer came in uneven unison from Calen, Arianna, Drim, Mathias and Tu'jan. There was equal parts dismay and anger in their voices.

Maurus looked around for Senior Seargent Kolash, but even as it did, he was stepping forward, raising his mace to the west and shouting with a voice much surer than he felt: "Spread out. Shields up, magic blocks, ready! Move!"

He was relieved to catch sight of Kolash shouting much the same orders as he did and that the units to his left were already doing much the same as he was suggesting.

"Wait!" A reedy voice shouted and Maurus stopped mid-step, a little unsteadily. Then he turned, releasing his grip on his shield and shrugging it up onto the strap covering his forearm. He grabbed Widget, getting hold of an odd metal bar along the back of her leather armor and tossed her up onto his shoulder, where she yelped and floundered for a moment, before he felt her weight settle in the stirrups. He hadn't removed them yet but it was an oversight he was more glad than embarrassed to have made now.

Another round of explosions sounded, drowning out cries and shouts again even though they were farther behind Maurus this time and as he began running up the slope towards where the windriders were, he realized with a sullen resignation that he was once again lucky to be close to the front of the formation.

"Forward!" Widget screamed, a jittering edge of hysteria in her voice.

The slope was steeper this way up and soon Maurus' heart was pumping with exertion as well as fear. His hooves slammed into the red sand and grey slate, treacherous footing at the best of times, but dangerous here, yet he managed to avoid falling. Not everyone did and he managed to catch a troll running in front of him before the troll's stumble could become a real, dangerous fall.

He raised his shield as the flyers neared them. Two fiends landed in a crash of dust and fire, stopping Kolash' group in its tracks as at least a score more came down in front of the advancing regiment, accompanied by flocks of succubi. More flyers simply went by and Maurus felt fire slam against his shield, held over both his and Widget's heads, as they did.

"Onward! Stop the guns!" Kolash shouted as he threw himself fearlessly toward the demons and battle commenced. Maurus followed his example, hurtling through the flame that the demon in front threw at him, ignoring the lashes swiping his sides. Light and flame and darkness flew around him and shadows passed overhead as the rest of the flyers continued down the mountain, but he paid them little heed. He focused his attention on the massive fiend's black blades, shielding his smaller companions as they went for its legs. As he defended against the heavy blows, he silently thanked Arianna for the weakening curse he saw seep into the fiend's flesh and thanked the spirits that he had his skilled friends and soldiers with him.

The first fiend fell, only to be replaced by another, warier one, and the fight got harder, as the explosions continued to thunder behind them. Another fiend fell and another, crumbling to the ground amid the slaughtered succubi, but as they did, the magical onslaught from Maurus' group thinned and the fighters took more and more hits. The fourth demon fell suddenly though, as the unit to Maurus' left overwhelmed their own foe and added their magic and steel to the assault. That left a hole in the demons' formation, by chance or design, Maurus had heard the order and pushed forward, calling on his soldiers to do the same.

Maurus' group and the other one hurried through the hole, running upward as others ran around the demon formation to hit them in the rear.

As he ran, Maurus' eyes flicked to his companions. Arianna and Wiven had both donned their light helmets, so now every expression was hidden between blank steel, but all his companions moved with a determined, focused stride that didn't betray whatever anxiety they might feel.

For his part, he felt apprehension twist his stomach as they continued up the slope and saw no new resistance. He would have put more defenses in place and he had a hard time believing it could be so simple.

"What's the catch?" he said, loud enough that those closest to him could hear it. He only got a variety of 'don't know's in answer, so he simply kept up the pace.

Two hundred strides further up, Maurus suddenly realized the booms came singly or in pairs instead of in dozens and looked back. The fight was still furious, though tipping convincingly in the Horde's favor, but further back, a black mass was advancing among the crystals toward the rear of the army.

 _'Can't do anything about that'_ Maurus told himself firmly, swallowing bile and looking ahead again. That made him growl out a curse, as he saw demons disappear up into the sky, their flight labored, while their fellows battled the windriders.

The area beneath the aerial battle was a jumble of rocks and boulders and Maurus raised a hand before slowing his own pace. He took a moment to let the people close around him, then went forward as fast as he dared while fearing an ambush hidden behind the cliffs.

Nothing jumped out at them or the other units around them, though Maurus didn't let himself relax. Very carefully, he went around a wider rock formation and stopped, as Widget let out a delighted gasp. His eyes immediately found the ground up dirt and the scorch marks, but he only noticed that in passing, paying much attention to the cause of Widget's outburst: Bombs, almost spike-like rather than round, strewn haphazardly across the ground, lying in small piles or singly, evidence of a quick retreat.

On the opposite end of the rock formation, one of the other units stood looking in. The leader, a troll that made him think of Zolan, waved a hand and a small undead in leathers stepped forward.

Maurus held up his mace and waved his shield arm at the soldiers behind him as he shouted: "Get back!"

Without waiting for a response from the sergeant, he gestured toward the piles and said more quietly: "Have Ash check it."

Arianna breathed a quick order and Ash hurried forward, the red demon blending almost perfectly with the dirt as he approached the piles, bony head to the ground. He was almost on top of the biggest pile when his head snapped up and he leaped directly into it.

Maurus' shifted his weight even before the demon leaped, ready to step between Arianna, who was the only one not in covered by the rock or himself already, and the potential explosion. None came however, thanks to of Ash's instincts.

A voice not unlike Widget's cried out as Ash pushed a little yellow figure out from the pile of bombs it had been hiding in. Maurus' heart skipped a beat as he saw bright, acid-green sparks flare from the imp's fingers, but the fireball never bloomed, instead going out like a candle as Ash's wide-open maw sucked the magic from the air.

The imp shrieked indignantly and Maurus was sure it was cursing just from its tone, as it wrestled with Ash, who only raked at it with his claws, his jaws spread but not biting down. Judging by the constantly erupting and vanishing sparks, it was a good thing Ash did so.

The struggle lasted for only a few moments before the undead from the other unit simply knelt beside the demons and ended it with quick, precise moments, one hand grabbing hold of the imp's ear and pulling, the other sliding his dagger across its throat, cutting so deep that the imps head came off its shoulders. Freed from the need to dampen magic, Ash bit down gleefully on the imp, only to growl in annoyance as blood and body turned to dust.

"Don't think I've ever appreciated the creepy mutt as much as I do now," Maurus said after a moment. He glanced down the mountain and felt a rush of relief as he saw that the black mass had changed course, going north for some reason, having apparently never reached the back of the army.

"I do keep him around for a reason," Arianna said. Her tone was light, but roughened by the run and an edge of worry.

Maurus nodded, looking back at Ash as the demon sniffed the area again. There was something in his body language the looked like disappointment and Maurus found himself feeling something like it. Finding the enemy gone before they even arrived, there'd been little to release the tension in blood and rage, no proper way to exact revenge for the fallen. Instead, the tension and anger had nowhere to go, and while some of it petered out, the rest remained, annoying like a stiff limb that needed to be stretched out.

The rest of their climb over the mountains followed the same pattern. The demons never stood and fought. Instead, the fel-damned mortars would appear and fire from hidden perches, the demons and fel orcs only fighting long enough that their artillery teams could get some good shots in and then withdraw. It was exhausting and terrifying, always waiting for the thunder of explosions, their only hope being that the flyers and those who'd advanced by zeppelin would find the enemy before the main army came into range, though they did seem to become swiftly more effective at it.

When they reached the top of the mountain range, under a sky tinged blue by odd clouds, Maurus was shocked to realize that there had been no attacks the previous day and a half and that it was unlikely the descent would be anything like the ascent, now that the mountains worked against the artillery. The relief of that thought made the sight of Zangarmarsh stretching out beneath them, a breathtaking, strange vista of white ovals over lush green and specks of beautiful, wonderful blue water, even sweeter. Without thinking, he hugged Arianna to him, though only briefly, remembering his full armor when she let her discomfort be known.

That was another thing he hoped proper, flat land and normal advance would give way to. The hard march had left precious little energy and time for anything other food and sleep, and having to remain in armor for as much of the time as possible had severely reduced the enjoyment he got from the moments of closeness he and Arianna had managed to get.

It wasn't to be just yet though, as the army turned south then and moved south toward the proper passes into Zangarmarsh. That too became a frustrating week, as the enemy remained as skittish and elusive as before, retreating before them, leaving little trace but the ash of summoned demons, dead orcs and the occasional trap in the form of explosives set up to either blast them or trigger rockslides.

The end felt decisive at least and Maurus was mostly satisfied that he was stuck on the western flank while the vanguard cleared out the caves and positions along the northen passes, before collapsing the tunnels behind them. Those engagements seemed to break the enemy's resolve and the army reached the valley floor practically unopposed.

* * *

Zangarmarsh was a cool, humid heaven after the months in the Blasted Lands and Hellfire Peninsula, made even more so by the enemy apparently being in full retreat. It was bursting with life, buzzing with insects and reverberating with the odd, squishy creaking of the humongous mushrooms that towered over the green land. After the overpowering red of Hellfire, Zangarmarsh's blue colors was a balm on his eyes and the rainbow of colors that glowed softly from inside many of the mushrooms made the place as beautiful as Ashenvale.

And the water. Cool, wonderful water, surprisingly clear for a place called a marsh, was everywhere, dripping from the plants and running down the trunks of the mushrooms, seeping into the earth and feeding the lakes and pools and sluggish streams that seemed almost more plentiful than solid ground.

Of course, nothing was ever good enough to satisfy everyone.

"Nothing works! It's all too moist!" Widget whined. They'd barely set up camp and slated their thirst before she'd realized and now she sounded close to tears, fiddling with a small black bomb in a way that would have made any sane person edge away slowly had they been anywhere else.

"Hmm," Maurus agreed pleasantly as he unbuckled his breastplate. He was rather pleased that the humidity and the plentiful mushrooms made it unlikely that the demons could use their mortars here. Magic, steel and claw would be the only weapons available.

"Really, what am I going to do?" Widget continued. "I'm useless, impotent, a net loss!"

Maurus kept his gaze on the glittering water in front of him and shrugged. "Learn to shoot a crossbow? It'd save my ears some pain."

"But that's a step back," Widget said, appalled. "We've gone beyond that. Become better."

"A weapon that only works when the weather is on your side is hardly the best," Maurus said, glancing at her. She looked like she sounded, her red hair hanging heavy around her face, wet from the light, short drizzle that had come down as they were setting up camp. "Maybe it's a sign to change direction. The Legion's hardly someone to emulate."

Widget looked almost offended and opened her mouth to respond, only to get interrupted.

"Are you saying she should give up on gunpowder because the Legion is using it? I'm shocked by your hypocrisy." The tone was light and teasing and Maurus smiled even before he turned and saw Arianna approach. He did also raised an eyebrow in question though.

"By that logic, you should give up your armor and throw away your axe. I think the only thing you use that they don't are totem poles," Arianna elaborated, stepping in between Widget and Maurus. She paused momentarily before leaning in and pressing her lips to his for a brief moment.

"And earth magic," Maurus said as she withdrew. "I think I know a couple of tauren who would like us sticking to those. But I guess you have a point."

Arianna gave a slight nod, indicating that that much was obvious and slid down beside Maurus as Ash settled down in front of them. Widget looked a little mollified, but still frustrated.

"Still think the crossbow would be useful," Maurus said pleasantly, muffled by his chainmail and the layers beneath as he pulled them over his head. The sudden lack of weight on his shoulders made him sigh in relief as he pushed the armor into his tent.

"Maybe a whip, if you plan to keep riding the Cow into battle," Arianna said drily.

"He whips himself into a frenzy well enough on his own, if you ask me," Widget answered, matching Arianna's tone.

Arianna chuckled and Maurus grunted. "Properly handled, you could throw a lot of enemies off balance," Arianna said. "And I do know someone who could teach you."

"Are you seriously suggesting I have a little whipping goblin on my shoulder?" Maurus asked.

"Saves your hearing and makes her useful," Arianna said practically.

"No fun," Widget said, her moroseness returning.

"Your infernal-wreckers will work anyway, won't they?" Maurus asked.

"Yes, but that's because the heat flash-dries the-" Widget trailed off and her eyes widened. "That's it! I just need to figure a way to do that."

She sprang up, her mouth spreading in a grin that seemed to show all her teeth, darted forward and hoisted herself up by Maurus' horns to kiss him on the nose, before running off. Maurus looked after her, then at Arianna. She was looking after Widget too, her expression thoroughly unimpressed, then she glanced back at him.

"Excitable one, isn't she?" She asked.

"Nothing new about that," Maurus said, setting his hands into the earth and pushing himself to his hooves. Arianna looked at him with a slight frown and a hint of surprise in her eyes. Then her eyes widened as he pulled at his chain leggings.

"I'm glad you joined me, but I was planning on finally getting some of this dust out of my fur. I bet it'll make me more pleasant to be around too," Maurus said. He smirked. "Care to join?"

This time, Maurus was sure he saw a hint of red in Arianna's cheeks, but her expression showed no consternation. Instead, a pensive look appeared on her face and Maurus' smirk widened. His eyes ran across the little circle of tents, empty for the moment. They had, in his opinion, a good spot, close to the lake and the tents offered some modesty for Arianna if that was what she wanted, though there were other bathers on the opposite side. "I can shield you if you want," Maurus added, grinning.

"Thank you. But I think I'll wait a little," she said, her eyes alighting on the bathers and the other tents along the lake.

"Suit yourself," Maurus said, shrugging, and turned to the lake. With quick motions, he discarded his remaining clothes and began walking down toward water, though not before glancing back at Arianna. She looked both appreciative and disproportionally surprised by his action considering both his and the average Horde members attitude to nakedness, and he smiled broadly, swinging his tail and adding a slight swagger to his steps.

That got a chuckle before he reached the water and threw himself into it with absolute relish. It was bliss, finally cleaning what felt like pounds of grit and grime from his fur and afterward he simply enjoyed the feeling of the gently sloshing water around him, taking a few strokes further into the lake, though not before diving to look for predators. The place might seem safe, and have been deemed safe by the shamans who'd communicated with the spirits, but there was no sense in letting down his guard.

Satisfied, he swam through the water, letting it cool him and relax his tense muscles, the slow, steady movements calming and meditative, so different from the jerky motions of combat or the draining motions of march.

He swam further into the lake before turning around to float on his back and letting his gaze wander. Above, the strange, massive mushrooms soared high into the misty air and the firefly lights that dotted the air made small clouds of green and purple and red. Around him, the water rippled, reflecting snatches of the color above, making it twinkle with motes of light between the white flowers that dotted the water here and there. To one side were an even stranger, but no less beautiful plant. Streamers of pale blue, like a mix between seaweed and peaceblossom, infused with light, spread from vaguely fungus-like growth at their center that glowed with more intensity.

He hadn't felt so relaxed since the oasis, just before they'd reached Ratchet, when he'd enjoyed that oasis and later seen Arianna under the moon. That image was more vivid than he'd expected, but in hindsight, he might have been more aware of her already then. At that thought, he glanced back to the tents and found Arianna sitting peacefully, a hand beneath her chin, watching him and she looked about as relaxed as he felt. A dip would surely make it better, but if she wouldn't join him, he would have to rejoin her, so he kicked out to get back to shore.

The peaceful water around him suddenly exploded, whipping up around him like waves crashing against a rock. Water sprayed up around him and then iron-strong bands wrapped around him, coiling around his thighs, his arms, his chest and around his throat and dragging him beneath the surface of the lake.

As the water closed over him, as ominous as galloping hooves at night, panic bloomed in his mind and he struggled, with absolutely no success. He had no purchase, nothing to kick off of, nothing he could do. The bands dug into his skin with painful strength and he could feel a disgusting, spongy mass against his back, but he hardly noticed anything other than the band around his throat, lighting the water around him with a ghostly blue glow and feeling like it might break his neck or crush his windpipe.

 _'The shamans should have found something like this,_ he thought, oddly clearly, as his vision began to darken. He hadn't had time to breathe before going under and he was rapidly running out of air, something the bands around his chest only hastened, pressing bubbles out between his clenched teeth.

He kept struggling, rage breaking through the panic. He couldn't die here, now, less than a hundred feet from the woman he loved. It was no use though, and darkness crept further in on his vision and odd phantom colors played in the shadows. Purple. Red. Green.

Something black and violent and ugly suddenly coiled in his stomach before it exploded out through his body, making his muscles feel like they might burst and creeping up through his throat like a razor-edged snake. His mouth tasted of bile and blood as he pulled at the tentacles restraining him, a mindless snarl bubbling between his lips as his mind became consumed by a burning, hateful rage. He felt the bonds around his limbs break easily before his newfound strength, like wet grass, and he spun in the water, reaching out in a frenzy to tear more at its limbs. His head was pounding, his lungs screamed for air, but the only thing that seemed to matter was getting to that glowing head.

His fingers tore into the spongy mass as if they had been blades and the left side of the large, blue, fungoid head burst like rotten fruit, but it gave him barely any satisfaction and he reached out for the mangled creature, kicking out with his hooves to follow it as it spun away on its wounded limbs.

Then his hate-fueled rage vanished, replaced by abject terror. His vision was darkening, his limbs felt heavy and he was abruptly spine-chillingly certain that the soft, grave-dark lakebed was filled with more of the alien creatures, ready to drag him down to drown in the muck. Driven by desperation, he kicked, propelling him up toward the faint light above, certain he was doomed. His stomach heaved, his arms and legs felt like one big bruise and it felt like the water itself was dragging him down.

His head burst from the water, and he gulped down heaving breaths, but the air brought him no relief, the sight of the Horde camp only gave him a new goal to desperately move toward. He splashed forward with jerky, powerful motions that made his breathing get interrupted by gasps of pain. Any moment, more of the tentacles would wrap around his ankles and then it would be over. He'd die in agony, naked, alone, not even knowing what his killers were.

His hooves touched soft mud and a fresh jolt of fear ran through him as he expected sinuous arms to snake up around him and drag him back in, but it didn't happen. He trudged forward, eyes wild and then, with a suddenness that made him stumble, the terror vanished.

He didn't catch himself. He only managed to bring out his arms before he fell face-first into the muddy shore. With effort and the help of something hard and spiny pushing at him, he rolled onto his back and simply lay there, his heart racing, his muscles throbbing agonizingly, staring up into the mushroom canopies and the dark, blue sky behind them. He saw no beauty this time, only able to think about the numbing fear and the all-consuming _hate_ he'd felt a moment before and would have crawled into his tent and curled into a ball if he'd been able. Instead, he lay in the mud, feeling cold, heavy, his limbs trembling and his stomach rolling. Dimly he registered a voice calling: "Shayla! Calen!"

After a moment, when he'd gotten enough air into his lungs to be merely breathing heavily, rather than heaving for air, Arianna appeared above him. She was dripping wet, her hair was plastered to her face and her robe clung to her shoulders. There was an uncharacteristic gleam of panic in her wide eyes.

"Can you breathe?" she asked, one hand touching his throat and the other falling to his chest. He grimaced, feeling like she was hitting bruises with a hammer and she quickly withdrew both hands, before he managed a nod and a deep breath that hurt his chest.

Heart in his throat, he asked, voice rough and unsteady: "What happened?"

Guilt flashed across Arianna's face and she gently placed a hand on his cheek, not speaking. A movement on the edge of Maurus' vision made him start, but then he recognized Shayla's serious face and her short-cropped, dark hair. She looked him up and down, then settled her eyes on Arianna.

"Frenzy. And fear," Arianna sighed. "There will be torn muscles."

Shayla scoffed, but set to work without another word, placing her hands just above Maurus' chest and he immediately felt the tense, dull throb there begin to ease, making breathing less painful. He stared at Arianna, feeling a little sick. "That was..."

"It was a spell, inspired by the shaman's bloodlust, perfected during the Third War. It had little to do with you," Arianna said, caressing his cheek. He shuddered, but felt a surge of relief that the black hate and blinding rage hadn't come from himself. He thought he was used to rage, but those emotions had blotted out all thought and it frightened him to think what he would have done had he been around friends.

Arianna misinterpreted his shudder though, and removed her hand, a flinching motion. Maurus gathered his thoughts and managed to say: "Not you. Just the spells. Horrifying."

He had to swallow again. Half-heartedly, he said: "You're better at fear than most."

Arianna's lips twitched, though she didn't look happy. Figuring he had to do something, he lifted a hand, ignoring his protesting muscles, and placed it on her thigh.

"Just don't hit me with it again."It came out a lot less lighthearted than he meant it to, but Arianna seemed to understand, her hands falling to rest on his hand.

"I had to do something," she said and her expression became resolute, her hands clenching into fists atop his. "If necessary, I will do it again."

Maurus suppressed a shudder at the thought of feeling any of that again, but he couldn't fault her. Her actions had saved him from a certain death so he'd just have to live with the extra horrors that was sure to trouble his sleep. That logic didn't quite banish the disgust and horror he felt and he had to struggle to get out the words: "Thank you."

He hoped the squeeze he gave her thigh was more convincing than the words sounded.

Arianna nodded, seeming to understand and bent in to press a kiss against his mouth. He was tempted to try to deepen it, but he simply felt too exhausted to do much more than return the kiss.

"You do smell better," Arianna said, hovering over his mouth.

Maurus felt the mud on his legs, his arms and his back and managed a weary smile. "Not a complete loss then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I finally managed to get something out. I hope it was worth the wait to some degree.
> 
> The good news is that I have a firmer idea of what the next chapter will be about. The bad news is that university is probably going to be a right bitch. So I can promise nothing.
> 
> Thank you all for reading. Just wanted to put that out there.
> 
> Also, if anyone calls me out on the unholy frenzy: I was thinking of the warlocks in Warcraft 3. chaos orcs, who had fireball, unholy frenzy and another spell. So I thought I could use it, even though I found out it was a death knight spell in WoW proper. But I already showed the fel orc warlocks using it, so I thought it wasn't completely out of the blue. I hope it wasn't too jarring.


	16. Rising Troubles

Chasing Through Hell

Rising Troubles 

"I just can't leave you alone, can I? I'm beginning to wish that troll had stayed and kept you on a leash. Might keep you out of trouble." 

Maurus gave Mathias a half-hearted glare but was too exhausted and too used to him to truly take offense. Shayla's healing had sapped most of his remaining strength and compared to the significant, disapproving look she'd given him before leaving, Mathias' comment was nothing. At least Mathias' subtle worry was about the attack, not Arianna's mere presence.  

"I wasn't expecting flowers to attack me," Maurus said tiredly.  

"Trees do, if you recall," Arianna said. She hadn't left his side since the healing. "Well, what looks like trees. But of all people, we should know better than letting appearances deceive us." 

Maurus raised a heavy hand, waving off the concern. "Another thing to worry about? There'll come a day where I won't even dare take off my armor." 

"Speaking of deceivers," Mathias said. He sat down by his tent with a nonchalance that was greatly at odds to the gleam in his eyes. "Where is the dreadlord now?" 

Maurus held back a snort. It was almost an impressive show of patience from Mathias that he hadn't demanded Ven'Zarul's location the moment they'd hit the soggy earth of Zangarmarsh. He'd even restrained himself to only asking once during the trek over the mountains.  

Arianna closed her eyes, putting two fingers to the bracelet on her left wrist, like she was taking her own pulse. It only took a moment, the spell was almost effortless by now, before she said: "Directly west. I think he's on the same level as us too." 

"Damnation," Mathias spat.  

After marveling for a moment that Arianna could figure out altitude now, Maurus pursed his lips. He agreed with his friend, though maybe not with the same vehemence. He wasn't privy to the exact plans of the campaign, and the far-ranging scouts were still coming in, but word was that they were going either south or north. South seemed more likely, seeing as the mountains to the north were just more hostile, almost barren land, while Terrokar Forest was the first region in Draenor that could serve as a proper, long-term foothold, having food, resources, solid ground and, if the rumors were to be believed, warily neutral brown orcs to the west. That Terrokar was between here and Shadowmoon Valley, where the demons seemed to be concentrating their forces, just made it more likely. It was just a shame that the demon Maurus and his companions were after wasn't following his fellows. 

Then again, it was unlikely the entire Horde and Alliance would be moving as one. Leaving their path back to the Portal undefended was unthinkable.  

"I'll ask for duty here," Maurus said. If that kept them close to Ven'Zarul, great, and it was an added bonus if it kept them far away from Shadowmoon. The domain of the late Gul'dan and his warlocks, main seat of demons ever since, and going by the rumors, the most corrupted of all of Outland, was not a place he wished to see. "If we're lucky, Zarul'll be into something big enough that we'll get sent there." 

Out the corner of his eye, he saw Arianna frown and he turned his head to her in question.  

"The Black Temple is the seat of power of Outland," Arianna said. " Lord Illidan is there and my people should be there too."  

"The Legion is massing in the Valley," Maurus replied. "Either Illidan has lost control or he's rejoined the Legion." 

"They are under siege," Arianna said, words full of stubborn conviction. "Which is all the more reason for us to hurry, so we can catch the demons between our armies and the walls of the Temple." 

Maurus thought back to one disturbing rumor he'd tried to ignore ever since he'd started caring about Arianna. "Your people might not even be there. The draenei-" 

"Must be missing something," Arianna said, eyes flashing. "Or they are simply lying. Our Prince would never seize the home of another people unless he absolutely had to." 

Maurus put a hand on her shoulder. "Easy," he said gently. "I meant that the Legion might have driven Illidan's forces from the Valley. And that the Prince's host might be someplace else."  

"Wherever they are, you're not going to see them before we've hacked through a lot of demons," Mathias said bluntly. "And considering the damage Ven'Zarul has already done, killing him would be smart." 

"He's no one, in the grand scheme of things," Arianna said. "Otherwise, he wouldn't have been left behind or hidden for so long. He's been lucky to have time or resources on his side, but I doubt someone is going to hand him another pit lord and a pack of warlocks to work magic with. Besides, he's been running since Ashenvale." 

Maurus put a little pressure on Arianna's shoulder and gave Mathias a sharp look. It actually made him pause.  

"He's not just running," Maurus said. "He's been hindering us all the way. So he's furthering the Legion's cause, instead of just flying back immediately. Making himself useful. But to benefit, he has to meet with his leaders. And we can find him." 

Mathias' smile was nothing short of ghoulish. "And that gives us actual reason to hunt him down." 

Arianna tensed under Maurus' fingers. Gently he moved his hand to her back, resting two fingers around her shoulder while running his thumb in slow circles along her nape. "We don't know for sure where your people are and what little we know point in opposite directions. Don't you think we'll be more use here?" he asked softly. 

"The others have the horn," Arianna said. "And with all the trophies, any trustworthy warlock or dabbler could pick up the trail." 

Mathias snorted and Maurus' lips twitched. Arianna tiled her head in acknowledgment and said darkly: "Granted, that is a small group." 

She took a deep breath, and Maurus noted, after appreciating the motion, that it didn't seem to have the relaxing effect on her that it usually did. Sniffing, he realized that there was less corruption on the air, which translated to less readily available magic for the elves to siphon.  

"Until we have word, this is as central as we're going to get, if the maps are any good," Arianna said reluctantly. It took effort for her to say it, judging by her tone and the rigidness in her spine, but she didn't sound as opposed as she did before. Regaining a little of her blitheness, she said: "Might as well get a mobile assignment. I know how you hate the waiting." 

Maurus nodded, glad that it hadn't been more trouble to convince Arianna. She and Mathias were a little volatile, despite their friendship and it was just lucky that Arianna had no solid evidence, because otherwise he would probably have had to make a much more final choice. 

"That settled-" Maurus said and made to push himself up. He failed, his right arm buckling beneath him and he toppled, dragging Arianna with him across his chest. It was a contradiction, the warmth of her body pleasant while the weight of her pressed painfully on his sore muscles. 

Mathias chuckled again, glancing up into the misty air. "Is now the time?" he asked airily. 

Maurus let out a low growl, half from annoyance, half from pain. "I think I'll ask tomorrow." He looked down at Arianna's golden, still damp hair. "Could your friends weigh in too?" 

"Not what the group is for," she said. Her breath tickled the fur on his chest as she sighed. "But I'll see what I can do." 

* * *

 

Maurus lay in his tent, hands folded on his chest, half-closed eyes on the cloth above him. The night was cool and quiet, a relief for his ears, which ached slightly from the constant noise of the army. His muscles were heavy, but with the pleasant fatigue of a day's walking and training, not the ache of straining combat and his fur was clean and soft, not matted with sweat and dirt.   

He sighed contentedly. Now that he knew to be wary of the wildlife, which included what he'd usually have called plant life, Zangarmarsh seemed incredibly safe and welcoming and he thoroughly enjoyed it. It wouldn't last, they were at war, but he could enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasted. 

His ear twitched as he heard a soft sound and he glanced down, eyes widening both at the sight that met his eye and the sudden heat touching his legs. His mouth opened in surprise as Arianna crawled up along his body, her pale, _naked_ skin heating his as she moved and her golden hair sliding up against his chest, drawing forth a heat from within him.  

He felt himself react to her when one foot trailed the inside of his thigh while the hard tips of her breasts brushed against his rising chest before she came up where her face was level with his. 

Her half-lidded eyes were small fel suns, putting the stars behind her to shame. Her lips were curled in a wicked smile that promised a great many things and Maurus closed his arms around her, one hand finding the smooth skin of her back, the other coming to rest alongside the back of her head on the bed of her soft hair.  

She dipped down and kissed him, mouth greedily open, small tongue roaming and retreating before his, allowing him to fill her mouth for a moment before she pushed back. The buzz in his mouth grew, spreading and growing hotter, changed, grew painful and he tensed. He pulled on her hair, trying to get room to breathe, to cool off, but she didn't relent. The heat grew and spread and darkened, turning black in his chest and in his head, scraping against his ribs and pounding against his skull. His mouth snapped shut, teeth grinding and he pulled sharply on her hair, ripping her away from him.  

Unlike his narrowed eyes, hers were wide and shining with mockery, the fel fire in them causing cracks to spread from them and her mouth parted to reveal sharp teeth. He bared his teeth and growled, twisting the fistful of hair he had hold of and lifted his other hand to close it around her throat with all of the unnatural strength he felt pulsing in his limbs. 

Maurus woke with a start, heaving for breath, his heart hammering, a sheen of sweat covering his brow,. He still felt the heat and the terrible pressure of her pulse as he squeezed and despite the nauseating horror in his belly, his body was still hot from the beginning of the dream as well.  

He slammed his hands flat against the ground, desperate for his hands to feel something other than the phantom sensation of a hard snap and the satisfaction and need for more that had caused. He concentrated on his empty hands, his gradually slowing breathing and his heavy tired body, which was not brimming with an uncontrollable strength. 

After a while, he sat up, swallowed and wiped his eyes, and left his tent.   

Zangarmarsh was, as always, faintly buzzing with the sound of living nature and the low noise of the army and after the eerie silence of his dream, he welcomed it. Still, he was carefully quiet as he knelt by Arianna's tent and lifted the tent flap.    

The tent was dark, but he could make out the outline of Arianna, curled up on her side. Her chest rose and fell evenly and Maurus breathed a sigh of relief. He hesitated irrationally for a moment before reaching out to run the back of his hand along her bare calf. He withdrew quickly, partly from the realization that he might wake her and partly because her skin was exactly as hot as in his dream. She didn't react though and he stepped back, feeling much calmer than before. 

"Don't get enough of her while she's awake?" 

Maurus spun round and found Mathias sitting by a small, sputtering fire. His head was tilted, one straw-colored eyebrow raised and Maurus recognized the slight concern behind the relaxed interest. Around the camp, more of Maurus soldiers and some from the surrounding camps sat in groups, whiling away the night.  

He went over to sit beside his friend, who studied him as he approached. 

"Nightmare," Mathias said quietly, a statement, not a question. Maurus nodded.  "I'm hurt that I wasn't included," he said blandly, picking up a dark bottle that had been stuck firmly into the earth by the fire. Flakes of dry earth fell from it.  

Maurus let out little snort. "If it makes you feel better, you don't always come out unscathed either."  

"That's better," Mathias said lightly, taking a drink.  

Maurus was glad that, whatever Mathias claimed, the hole in his throat didn't actually show food or drink when he swallowed. "Do you dream?" He asked.  

Mathias grimaced and Maurus immediately regretted his question. He lifted a hand to ward of the answer, but Mathias shrugged. "Thankfully, it's all darkness." He snorted. "Nothing but memories haunt me." 

Maurus put a hand on his friend shoulder, taking a firm grip. There was much more pain behind those words than the tone indicated. "Sorry," he said quietly. Mathias shrugged again, though not with nearly enough force to dislodge Maurus' hand. An earlier conversation popped into his head and from both curiosity and the urge to turn the conversation to something lighter, he said: "What did you and Garm do in the Needles?" 

Mathias smiled, wryly and warmly. "As thoughtful as he was, he had some harebrained ideas. He wanted to fly, so what better way than going to the wyverns' home?" 

A smile began to form on Maurus' lips as he sensed a story behind the statement. "Yes?" he asked. 

"He-" Mathias began, but distant shouts made him pause and look around. A moment later, the blaring of horns rolled through the damp air, a signal they both knew well and they leapt up from the ground, eyes darting around them.  

Maurus saw people rolling out of their tents while others ran in different direction, confused by the shouts, the clang of metal and the crackle and chime of magic coming from north, east and south. But he forgot that immediately when he turned fully around to the lake that was close by. A group of strange figures, blue-scaled and serpentine, sprang up from the low belly-crawl they'd been approaching the tents with, slithering forward on the tails they had instead of legs as colorful crests rose from their dragon-like heads. Most of them were muscular, half-way between orcs and tauren in size and brandishing wicked tridents in their clawed hands, but a few were slight and feminine in build, a little reminiscent of female elves, though that resemblance only made their monstrosity more twisted.  

All along the lake shore, more naga emerged, followed by huge, squat shapes, only a little smaller than kodos, covered so thoroughly in mud that it took a moment for Maurus to realize that the creatures, resembling irregular domes with thick legs, were giant turtles, almost as big as kodos.  

Blasts of icy blue and white flew from the four-armed female naga, beautiful and dangerous, trailing snowflakes all the way till they hit their targets and blackened limbs and chests with instant frostbite.  

"To arms! To arms! Get up, you slovenly bastards!" Maurus bellowed, hurrying forward. Inwardly, the thought dazedly: _'How- Have long where they down there?'_. Mathias was at his side, blade in hand and shield on his arm, and others from Maurus' unit were rolling out of their tents, groggily clutching their weapons while those that were already up were hurrying toward the fight. 

He ducked down and hauled on Soka, sending the orc sliding along the damp earth, out of the way of an icy blast that would have struck him straight in the head. He took a few more steps and knelt, slapping the flap of Arianna's tent aside and was met by Arianna's eyes blazing in the darkness. Ignoring the twinge he felt, remembering his nightmare, he pulled her bodily out of the tent, leapt back, shielding her with his body as he did, before putting her down beside him and whirling back toward the enemies. It was lucky that he'd moved when he did. The ground where he'd just stood was frozen solid and he could feel a stinging coat of rime on his back.  

By the time he completed his turn, a trident was speeding toward his belly as the naga holding it hissed a challenge, a sound like water hitting a baking stone.  

Inwardly cursing the fact that his armor, shield and weapons lay in his tent, five feet away and useless, he swung his clenched fists at the weapon, diverting it enough that it scored a burning line along his side instead of plunging into his guts, and let out a hiss of his own. 

On the side he'd pushed the trident to, Mathias saved him from a different naga, catching its trident on his shield with a grunt of effort. Maurus felt a flash of worry at the sight, because Mathias had been caught somewhat off guard as well, wearing only his basic chain shirt and not the plates that usually went over it, but he had no time to give it more thought. He barely defended himself against more attacks, battering them aside with his fists, before his opponent finally overreached. Seizing the opportunity, he closed a hand around the trident, just beneath the head, and pulled, while he set his hooves and struck with his other hand.  

He almost slipped on the slippery, frozen ground, but he managed to keep his balance and the naga's hiss abruptly cut off as Maurus' palm smashed into it's snout. It recoiled, mouth opening in a cry, but it didn't let go of the trident, so Maurus put his other hand on the trident and pulled again. The naga gasped as his knee met its belly and finally let go of the weapon. Maurus immediately stepped back and swung the trident as hard as he could at the naga's head. 

It went down in a heap and in the moment's breathing room he got, he turned the trident around and took in his surroundings, shouting: "Form up! We've got snakes to roast!" 

Ash was on the opposite side from Mathias, distracting rather than hurting the naga, aided by blasts of brilliant flame that also drove the attackers back. Zilja and Calen pushed forward in the same moment, allowing Tokan and Rilli to drag the badly bleeding Mo'raka away from the battle and on Maurus' opposite side, Tu'jan, Drim and Shayla fought with Mathias. Both sides were bolstered by a walking mound of damp earth compressed to the point of almost being solid stone and a column or roaring, sentient flame.  

More of his soldiers were hurrying to their aid and bursts of magic were already flying over their heads toward the naga. He recognized the dark magic of Arianna and the bright, fiery bursts could only be Wiven. The latter notion was confirmed when Wiven shouted, half-dismayed, half-outraged: "Why won't you burn?" 

Flashing a quick, fierce grin, Maurus swung the trident at the next naga. He'd never liked spears much and never in his life fished with anything but net and hands, but his inexperience was a boon here. The wild attack took the enemy by surprise and would have taken out its eye if it hadn't moved at the last second. Instead, the blow simply ripped its crest into a ragged mess and it hissed in fury, and surged forward to attack. 

Maurus found himself glad that his experience with centaurs had at least taught him how to defend against spears, because otherwise he wouldn't have survived it, though as the naga firmed their line, he began to worry. He was pushed back, his opponent pressing hard, perhaps because he was the least armored around and he paid for his unpreparedness, his fur growing sticky in places from a growing number of cuts and shallow punctures. 

A shrill, hissing shriek suddenly clawed at Maurus' ears and even though it was quite alien, he recognized the panic in it. The naga attacking him hesitated and Maurus recognized an expression of shock and worry as it looked back over its shoulder, its ragged crest flattening, a different kind of hissing coming from between its lips. He was almost too surprised to capitalize on the opening, but he managed to react and thrust the trident forward, two tines biting deep into the naga's throat.  

It jerked, stabbing blindly with its trident, but even as it gurgled in pain and blood, it didn't look back toward Maurus. He followed its gaze to a feminine naga mage that slithered in apparent panic back to the lake, diving into it and vanishing beneath the surface. 

That was a single anomaly though. Along the shores of the lake, fierce fighting was going on, where tents and soldiers alike weren't simply trampled by the turtles and another soldier came forward to plug the hole Maurus had made in the naga line.  

Before it reached him though, large hands clamped down on his shoulders and he was pulled back and shoved along the Horde line. The moment he recovered from the confusion, a firm, female voice spoke before him: "Get your gear. You're a liability!" 

Maurus' first impulse was to correct Payta, but the sight of her soldiers hurrying forward to bolster the line pushed that thought aside. Instead he hurried to his tent and threw on his mail, grabbing his axe as he did. The mail was cold and doubly unpleasant on top of the blood, but he ignored it and hurried back. Shouting a war cry, he leapt back into action, Mathias and Drim stepping smoothly aside so he could swing his axe.  

Blood flew, hisses and screams and roars sounded. The ground and grass crunched underfoot, frozen by the chill that flowed from the naga mages in waves, making Maurus' limbs sluggish but apparently not affecting the naga warriors. Maurus assumed it would have been much worse if the Horde hadn't had casters of their own to counteract the worst of it with heat and flame, but the cold was still intense and it conspired with the slippery ground and the naga's ferocity to prevent the Horde from gaining the upper hand, even as more soldiers joined the battle. 

Then, the sound of wailing horns whorled through the air and the naga disengaged in an explosion of cold and water, so sudden that Maurus almost slipped on the frost-coated earth. Serpentine bodies coiled and slithered, throwing themselves back into the lake and the water froze solid in the wake of the last naga, stopping the barrage of fire and lightning and other magic from reaching them.  

He started forward in pursuit, then remembered himself and quickly took stock of the soldiers around them. Almost his entire unit was awake and armed, though five of them were down, moaning in pain. A handful more soldiers were already down, some of whom he recognized from his time with Payta. The old tauren shaman was already tending to those and Maurus directed Shayla to help him before taking off along the shore of the lake to intercept the retreating enemies. 

As they circled the lake, he had time to really look around. The naga were surging away, gathering from their scattered formations into a mass on the eastern side of the lake, opposite Maurus' camp. They were retreating, along an uneven path of devastation that had been carved and trampled from there to the outer eastern edge of the Horde camp, following the biggest bodies of the water, from which they had sprung the ambush.  

Maurus noted with grim satisfaction though, that Horde were coming in on the naga from both sides and that the very edge of the camp seemed in better shape. The naga might not be able to smash through, despite the destruction they had caused.  

He pushed aside those thoughts when he saw his quarry emerge from the lake. They had a lead on Maurus and the others, but they didn't get far before a different group intercepted them and Maurus led his group into the naga with a howl of triumph. Caught between Maurus', Payta's and the third group, their enemies buckled, the last half dozen surrendering.  

It was an effort to restrain himself and the others, the surrender so surprising and strange after the merciless fights with demons and undead, but he managed. The two other units hurried forward, leaving Maurus and his comrades with captives to guard, and that marked the end of the battle for them. It stung, being relegated to guard duty, but he bit down the annoyance. 

"If anyone sees a speck of ice, kill the mages," he said, as the stragglers, those who'd been slowed but not incapacitated by their wounds, caught up. He glanced around and noted that everyone looked more bloodied and drained than usual. Not that he'd expected anything else. 

"Drunnya, Calen, tend to our wounded," he said, waving a hand back toward their campsite. Drunnya nodded and left without a word, but Calen hesitated. He looked smaller without his plate, in chain and helmet rather than his full crimson plate outfit, and there was something in his posture that made that impression stronger. "Calen!" Maurus barked and that got a reaction. The elf straightened and hurried off, glancing back over his shoulder at the prisoners once before increasing his pace. 

"Well done," Maurus said as he returned his attention to his unit. He felt a burst of relief and pride as he again noted that no-one there seemed in danger of succumbing to their wounds. "I'm not surprised, but you were on your feet and fighting as quickly as I hoped. And none of you are dead. Don't think I can ask for more. Remind me that I owe you all a bottle."  

That got a round of snorts, but the praise didn't seem to go unappreciated. Maurus nodded, glanced up toward the still ongoing battle, then set the whole group on the way back to camp, the naga walking in front. 

"They seem troubled," Mathias said quietly, as they entered the camp. Maurus glanced at him in question and Mathias nodded in the direction of Arianna and Wiven.   

He might have missed it if he hadn't noticed Calen's behavior, but now that he had, he couldn't help but notice that the two elves were walking quite close, shoulders almost touching. It reminded him vaguely of kodo calves huddling together like they did when they were without the protection of their adult kin.  The comparison made his lips twitch, though the expression of both elves made him suppress the smile as he discretely walked over to them.  

Quietly, he began: "What-" 

"You look like a stuck pig," Arianna interrupted him, sounding irritated.  

Maurus glanced down at himself and the sight of red, the blotches just visible through the rings, seemed to increase the throbbing of his wounds. "Shallow ones," he said dismissively.  

Arianna gave him a hard look and held out a health stone. 

"Give it to someone that needs it. I'll live," Maurus said, waving at the wounded. The shamans were hard at work, but there was little noise from their patients. At Arianna's skeptical look, he softened his tone and added: "I survived on my own before I met you." 

Arianna huffed, before stalking over to the healers. As she did, he glanced at Wiven. His face was tight with worry and every few seconds he would take a deep breath that didn't seem to have the calming effect he wanted.  

"Wiven," Maurus said, pitching his voice low and gentle as he bent down to fix a tent that had been knocked down in the struggle. "What's got you so rattled?" 

Wiven blinked, looked at Maurus and took another deep breath. He seemed to consider his words before he spoke, slowly and quietly, as if the words themselves were dangerous: "The naga are native to Azeroth. The only naga in Outland are those who followed Illidan. They attacked us." 

Wiven hesitated, but it wasn't hard to follow the logic. "That's twice now, that we've seen such signs," Maurus agreed. Inwardly, he added: _'And some of the rumors are worrying, in that they aren't completely crazy_ _.'_  

Wiven nodded, looking miserable. "Neither the naga nor Illidan have ever been very constant in their allegiances. And now we've been attacked. I don't know. If they... Maybe-" 

"They're defectors," Arianna interrupted him as she came back, the words a rebuke. Her eyes were narrow and the set of her jaw dared anyone to disagree, but the stiffness in her body betrayed her anxiety.  

"They're still following Lady Vashj. You heard them," Wiven said morosely.  

Maurus didn't question when the naga had said anything intelligible, that was a question for another time. He put a hand on Arianna's shoulder and said carefully: "You might be right,"  

Arianna inhaled, and he could see her ire rising at his tone. He wasn't going to let himself be discouraged though. In any case, other people would notice and bring up that their first Illidan's forces had been hostile, Mathias was a prime candidate for that, and going through the possibilities might prevent another clash. Before Arianna could speak, he put a finger on her lips, feeling a bit of mirth in how it covered them entirely. He also noted in surprise how battered his fingers looked, already bruising enough that he could see it through his fur. Instead of speaking the indignant response she'd had inhaled for, Arianna gave him an impatient look. 

"The alliance between Illidan, your kin and the naga might just have broken down. There's more than one way that could have happened." Wiven made an agreeing sound and his face brightened a little. It seemed hearing it spoken aloud comforted him a little. Arianna's expression however, didn't change. Maurus continued: "It could also be misunderstanding. We haven't seen anything friendly other than those brown orcs. And your people aren't on the long-range scouting missions." His tone turned a little wry. "Maybe Illidan's forces are simply hostile to us savages and they haven't figured out you're part of the Horde yet. Maybe they thought you needed help." 

Arianna blinked and he could feel her relax under his hand. Her expression became less closed and some of her worry showed before it dimmed. He hated speaking the next words: "But something else could have changed. You know that. Where there is one traitor, there might be more." 

Arianna winced and looked away, scowling.  

"We'll find out more once the interrogators get their hands on the prisoners," Maurus said. As he did, he glanced toward the east and felt his jaw clench as he saw the naga had made it past the outer perimeter and was still handling their fighting retreat skillfully. A large force of Horde was in pursuit, but the enemy hadn't been crushed as he'd hoped.  

"The Prince is waiting for us," Arianna said firmly and when he looked at her, her eyes were on the moving battle to the east. "The renegades will regret their defection then."  

The words encouraged Wiven, who straightened a little. He either didn't notice or simply ignored what Maurus thought he heard, a trace of uncertainty that made him think the words were more for Arianna's own benefit than anyone else's. He drew her close, enfolding her in his arms. She didn't relax much, but she didn't protest and did lean back against him.  

He really hoped she was right, though he had his doubts. At the very least, it seemed unlikely that anything but a major force would risk an ambush with such a high cost like the one they had just experienced, so if the naga were defectors, there must be a lot more where they came from.  

Arianna's words did indicate that she wouldn't hesitate in the face of what she considered traitors though, so that was encouraging.  

 _'Though it might be different if the traitors are her own people',_ a quiet voice whispered in his head. He pushed it away, squeezing Arianna a little tighter. He should trust her strength and if they encountered blood elves and his own were thrown off, he could count on his other soldiers while they recovered.  

He watched the naga vanish into the muggy fog of Zangarmarsh and realized that, as much as the encounter had disturbed his elves, it had accomplished one practical thing. It had probably given them all more reason to go east, in the direction of Ven'Zarul, if nothing else, to find out more about the naga. It was a cold and unpleasant practicality, but the alignment of the goals of his friends wasn't something he could complain about.  

He just wished it hadn't come at the cost of such destruction and anguish. 


	17. Kindling New Flames

Chasing Through Hell

Kindling New Flames

The camp was quiet in the early morning, the half-awake murmur of the waking Horde only just drowning out the drip and drone of Zangarmarsh. Maurus sat by a sullen fire, as one of the first ones awake who hadn't been on guard duty. The hard mushrooms that burned beside him made oddly-colored flames and belched out sour-smelling smoke, but the warmth was welcome after the surprisingly cold night they'd had and the cool breeze that wafted lazily through the camp.

Maurus turned into the wind, looking north, and imagined the twisted metal structure the scouts had spoken of, a gigantic, almost organic-looking body of massive pipes and machinery that rose from Coilfang Reservoir, out past the forest of mushrooms that blocked his view. Other scouts had reported what the structure had already wrought on northeast Zangarmarsh, to the great alarm of all, most of all the Cenarion Circle. The naga had drained it of water, turning it into a dead, brown mire where the mushrooms crumbled under their own weight and odd fungoid creatures roamed, as mad as the colossi in Hellfire.

There was, sadly, no doubt about it anymore: The naga were the enemy. They'd harassed the Horde since that first ambush, striking from the Reservoir and from Umbrafen Lake and they were killing the marsh. The sheer scale of both activities revealed that they were present in numbers that could only mean that they were united against the Horde. And from what little the interrogators had gotten from the captives, they claimed to serve Illidan, worrying, if not quite devastating news for the blood elves.

That the naga were fighting the Horde angered Maurus. That they willingly killing one of the few living places in dying Draenor sickened him. And the pain and uncertainty he saw behind the confidence of his elven companions fanned those emotions into something that he thought might be hate. He could still feel the weight of Arianna in his lap, where she'd sat the previous evening, subtly tense and with a quiet air of somberness despite her best attempts to seem disaffected.

The blood elves as a whole were showing much more reaction. The blood elf camp was stirring, the restlessness and nervous energy noticeable despite the elves' general reclusiveness. And with the old grudges, the fact that the blood elves were so recent an addition to the Horde, as well as the blood elves' openly stated goals and their general attitude, had the rumors flying with the speed of wind. There was open suspicion that the blood elves would desert or join the naga.

He sighed and shook his head. The only thing he could do about that was deny those suspicions.

He was jolted from those thoughts when he heard a light, rapid patter of feet approaching and he looked up as Widget came bounding into the camp. She was a paradox, covered with soot and sodden with water, making her look like a burnt and drowned rat, but her eyes and teeth gleamed with a manic joy. He considered, briefly, pretending that he had something important to do, but ignored the impulse and smiled tiredly at her.

"Good morning," he said.

"Morning, Boss," she said breathlessly, her eyes darting around the camp. When she reached him, she curled her small arms around his forearm, tugging, and said: "The others not awake? Can we wake them? They should see this!"

Maurus raised an eyebrow as Widget hauled at him to absolutely no effect and found his smile growing a bit. "I think they need their rest."

"You come then. Come on!"

Maurus considered for a moment, glancing around the camp. Several of his comrades were sporting grins, despite the tiredness written in their features. Sometimes it seemed that Widget was good for more than blowing things up and ruining his hearing.

With a shrug, he got to his feet and allowed her to pull him with her.

It was a little odd when she led him past the goblin enclave and out to one of the bigger ponds out past it. A small crowd stood along the shore, maybe a third of them non-goblins, spread on either side of a wide-wheeled wagon loaded with small barrels. The barrels were unremarkable at first glance, about the size of a goblin, but a second glance revealed that they had no visible seams or cracks and that their surface were a lot like the odd texture of the goblins' tents.

"Good, we didn't miss it," Widget said happily when they reached the edge of the crowd. Maurus frowned when she kept walking, going along the edge of the crowd, greeting some of the goblins and exchanging a wave with two of of the engineers at the wagon. She only stopped when she was two feet from the waters' edge and Maurus' hooves were half-buried in the mud.

"This is better?" Maurus asked. "We were closer before." Though come to think of it, the crowd were awfully close to goblin inventions, the closest, even those that weren't visibly engineers, standing within touching distance of the wagon.

"Just watch," Widget said excitedly. Humoring her, Maurus watched the goblins fiddle. He thought the engineers crowded suspiciously close around the barrels, blocking the view, and then, suddenly, one of them rolled a barrel down the ramp from the wagon. The goblin's eyes were wide and her movements hurried as she pushed the barrel over the shore and, with a great shove that made her trip face-first into the mud, sent it into the water, where it quickly vanished beneath the surface.

In spite of himself, Maurus felt himself lean forward a little, swept up in the intense curiosity of the crowd. The goblin pushed herself up from the mud, her entire front covered with dark mud and scurried back to the wagon. Nobody paid her any mind as the moment stretched out, the ripples slowly fading until there was only the soft waves that the wind made.

Maurus glanced down at Widget. Her sodden hair and her ears seemed to droop, but her posture looked confident, so Maurus returned his gaze to the engineers.

"What is this, gnomish?" one of the spectators jeered. One of the goblins, probably the leader, judging by the his overabundance of bewildering gadgets, barked out calmly: "Next."

Again, the engineers crowded in close and now Maurus was certain they were purposefully hiding what they were doing. Another barrel went down, pushed by a wiry little male goblin this time, who managed, barely, to keep his feet as he sent the barrel down into the water.

Maurus observed a little less attentively this time, which was the reason he nearly jumped when two heavy claps of sound hit him and the surface of the lake, fifty feet out, was violently disrupted, the water exploding up in what seemed a plume and a half that was easily twice as wide as the wagon.

A heartbeat later, some of the water came down in a brief drizzle over the small gathering. Maurus felt something squishy hit him just at the root of one horn and noticed the small, unrecognizable lumps that had also come down with the water. A quick glance at the water showed that it had darkened slightly out where the explosion had happened and he thought he saw small, scaly shapes and torn, spongy things appearing on the surface.

"It works!" Widget said giddily, the words almost drowning in the cheer of the goblins. Maurus looked down at her, shaking the bit of dead fish from his head. He was amazed at the achievement, explosions, underwater, but at the same time, he felt an edge of dread at seeing another problem with explosives overcome and a bit of revulsion at the obvious toll it took on the lake itself. Because, for once, it came to him immediately, how those bombs would be used and he knew enough about wildlife to know that ousting the naga with bombs could ruin much of the marsh or even set it on a course as catastrophic as the draining.

Widget only saw the triumph of her craft, judging by her grin. So, it seemed, did most of the crowd, including a few orcs and trolls that he vaguely recognized, by face and armor, as high-ranking officers.

"Isn't that amazing?" Widget said. When he didn't answer, she slapped his wrist and he glanced at her. "Be a little excited, will you? We lost a lot of sleep for that project."

Maurus dredged up his first emotion again and pushed his trepidation aside. "It is pretty incredible," he said, giving her a tired smile. "You had a hand in this?"

Widget wilted slightly. "Only a little. That's a different crew than mine, but we did exchange notes. A bit of stubbornness came into her voice as she said: "We would have gotten it eventually though."

Maurus returned his gaze to the excited crowd. He couldn't pick out any single words, but something in the leader goblin's bearing gave him the suspicion that haggling was going on. Then again, the saying did go that the way to know a goblin was haggling was to pay close attention to whether he was speaking or not.

"So, next up will be boats?" Maurus asked.

"Yeah."

"Going to be dangerous. Are you staying behind then?"

Widget blinked. "No!" Maurus felt a mix if relief and dismay, because her presence was always a mixed blessing, particularly for his ears. After a short pause, she continued: "I'm still technically attached to your little band, even if I've been absent a lot."

"I'm sure we could do something about that," Maurus replied easily and Widget gave him a glare.

"You'd regret it," she said. "I just know you'll need something blown up eventually and who's going to do that without me? The elves?"

Maurus inclined his head in a vaguely agreeing motion, though he wasn't sure what he was likely to meet that he needed Widget to blow up. She had after all already provided his comrades with a batch of the infernal-wrecking little bombs, so they were covered on that front. But then again, Outland was full of surprises.

"They'd do their best," Maurus said calmly. He clapped a hand over Widget's back, covering a good bit of both her shoulders. "But it's good to hear you'll be there to help."

* * *

"There you are."

Maurus looked up from his conversation, dropping a stray bit of fish he'd tugged out from his left pauldron, feeling his lips quirk into a smile. It turned into a full, surprised grin when he saw Arianna walk into the camp wearing the robe he'd given her. The more muted red of it was a little less striking than her usual blood red and gold, but it contrasted just as strikingly with her skin and hair, as well as with the bone decorations. The garment added just a slight edge of something more primal to her appearance, one he appreciated more than he'd expected.

"I told you it was better to wait," Calen said flatly before Maurus found his tongue. Maurus glanced back at him, only to see that both he and Wiven had gotten to their feet. Wiven was looking queasily worried, which was almost an improvement on the quiet gloom that had hung over him since the naga began attacking. Calen, on the other hand, had a look of intense distaste on his face, though that vanished so quickly Maurus wasn't sure it had ever been there, to be replaced with his usual grim aloofness.

Maurus grin faded a little and something sparked in his chest as he followed Calen's gaze back to Arianna, but he pushed it aside.

"You look incredible," he said earnestly, looking her up and down. She really did and to his relief and joy, the garment fit her perfectly. _'Gold well spent,'_ he thought and added: "What's the occasion?"

Arianna smiled, half-smug, as she reached him and put a hand on his shoulder. He felt a weight against his lower back and realized Ash was pushing his head against him. "We're visiting kin," Arianna said easily.

_'Hardly a special occasion,'_ Maurus thought, feeling, little pinch of disappointment. ' _Maybe she only finished charming it now,'_ came the immediate, reasonable thought. Out loud, as he raised a hand to Arianna's arm, he simply asked: "Want company?"

"If you don't mind," Arianna said airily.

Maurus blinked. He really hadn't expected that. He sought her eyes and thought he saw a tension lines around the green.

_'I'm certainly in demand today,'_ he thought, giving a smirk, and feeling Ash tumble between his legs as he suddenly rose. "I guess I don't have anything better to do," he said, matching her airy tone and gesturing lazily to Mathias and Widget.

Widget looked curious and Mathias had his head tilted in a gesture that Maurus had come to recognize as a question, looking looked ready to rise as well.

Arianna's smile waned. "Thank you. But I doubt your presence would be appreciated."

Mathias grunted and shrugged, settling down fully again. "Best get going then. Mind you, if your kin take exception to your savage, I'll object. Right through their pasty, smug faces and out through their slender necks."

Maurus snorted, though inwardly he was a bit surprised at Mathias' vehemence and the slight tension he saw creep into Calen's posture. "You're one to talk about being pasty. Don't worry, I'll find my way out. They're supposed to be civilized."

A moment of skeptical silence followed, as the rest of the group simply gave him flat looks. Maurus added: "Too pompous for random violence?"

"Closer," Arianna agreed. As Maurus picked up his axe, slinging it over his shoulder, she opened her mouth, then shut it again. "Shall we?"

The trip through the camp was quicker, the muddy paths not yet as crowded or torn up as they would become later in the day, though there was plenty of traffic nonetheless and as they walked he noticed some odd things. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he saw hostility in the faces of many of the people they passed, expressions darkening when the elves came into view and in addition to that, he didn't see a single elf other than his companions.

"Sullen morning," he said quietly, as cloth snakes of blood red and gold came into view over the earthy tents. Vague sounds of agreement met his words. "What's going on?"

"You know most," Arianna said. Her tone was as airy as before, but she was walking close enough to him that he would bump into her if he stepped slightly to the side. "We're going to have a word with some of our elders."

A stray, wild thought appeared in Maurus head, startling and ridiculous, yet still a little worrying: _'Am I going to meet her family?'_ A much more reasonable voice countered that there was no reason for her to bring the other two if that was the case. Shaking the silly thoughts away, he asked: "What about?"

"Where we stand. And what we think of the impression they're giving."

They rounded a corner and for the first time that morning, he saw an elf who didn't belong to his little band. A group of six, half in plate, half in elegant robes, walked in front of them, accompanied by two orc shamans, by the looks of their runed mail.

A few more elves, all walking in small groups and most in the company of at least one orc, tauren or troll, were further ahead, traversing the clear area between the Horde tents and the red and gold expanse of the blood elf camp.

Maurus hadn't found cause to visit it, only noticing it in the distance before, but now that he was closing, he saw just how separate it was from the rest, in more ways than one. The aesthetic of the tens was far from the usual Horde style, only the forsaken coming close. Physically, it was far from the nearest tents, the distance only beat by the goblin camp and even that didn't have fortifications that ran all the way around. They were also very impressive for short-term fortification, a high mound of hard-packed earth rising within an actual moat, both of which ran around the entire camp, not just the side facing the mushroom forest of Zangarmarsh.

They followed the other small groups through the only visible entrance to the camp and Maurus quietly noted the dozen sentries standing just inside the moat. The almost plainly robed guards made no move to stop them, but their green eyes were hard and cautious, lingering briefly on each non-elf. As their gazes fell on Maurus, he wondered whether they were taking stock of what threat he represented or if they were simply displeased at his mere presence.

He told himself to ignore them, but his grip tightened a bit his axe and before he managed to drag his gaze away from the guards, he caught one of them, a small, dark-haired man, sneer and mutter something that made the expressions of his two companions darken too.

They left the guards behind, but the attention only dwindled slightly. There were a lot of blood elves awake and about in spite of the relatively early hour and it seemed there was least one set of green eyes on them at any given moment. Quite a few of those they passed gave some sort of greeting to Maurus' companions, who responded in kind but most of the elves merely observed them with varying degrees of unease. The path was relatively uncrowded, but Maurus felt more hemmed in by the constant attention than he did by mid afternoon in Ratchet and a rather more acute need to be wary.

It didn't help that the air held a very faint sting of fel, as if he'd moved into a valley where the heavier air was different.

"Your people are very attentive," he said eventually.

"There are many reasons to be cautious. They've taken the threat of shapeshifting and accident-arranging traitors very seriously," Arianna responded, lowering the hand she'd raised at a red-haired shopkeeper. Maurus glared at another elf who adopted a sneer, though the man didn't notice before he moved his gaze from Arianna to Maurus and his sneer only became more prominent.

"You'd think infiltrators would adopt less conspicuous disguises," Calen said flatly.

"Maybe they suspect a double bluff?" Maurus suggested. Calen didn't reply.

As they walked, Maurus began to notice something other than the elves' attention. Subtle variations in the tents and styles of garb hinted that the camp was a collection of distinctly different groups and the slim banners hanging above the tents confirmed it by their myriad designs. There were far too many banners for them to signify tribes though and for a moment Maurus wondered what the division was about.

The continued stares made him ask a different question though.

"Why are they giving _you_ those looks?" he asked Arianna, a little growl rolling into his voice despite his best efforts. He gave two mages that looked like sisters a dark glare and got a better reaction than last time. They quickly looked away, though they made an effort to make it look like they weren't reacting to him.

Arianna rolled her shoulders in a subtle shrug. Her straight back was as much a statement as he unconcerned tone: "The staff. Ash. Maybe you."

Calen spoke before Maurus could reply: "Or maybe it's your clothes."

"They should spend their energy on something that actually matters," Arianna said, contrary amusement and a hint of satisfaction in her voice.

The words calmed the spark of anger and contrition that Calen's comment had sparked, but Maurus still asked quietly: "It really doesn't bother you?"

Arianna tapped her staff against his armored shoulder and met his gaze with an impatiently raised eyebrow. "It'll get tedious if I have to soothe silly worries all the time."

Maurus managed a snort. "Fine. I'll stop caring about your reputation."

"Good," Arianna said. "That's mine to protect. Besides, our rumor mill is as fast as yours and we aren't as isolated as we look here. I'd be riding you and stroking your mane if it got the message across without giving them fodder for calling you a pet."

As seemed to happen often with Arianna's assurances, her words sparked mixed emotions, both warm, soothing joy and a quick burst of anger. A moment later, he thought about her wording and chuckled. "Here? That would be a spectacle."

Wiven choked and Calen let out a sound that Maurus was disappointed to recognize as disgusted. Arianna's momentary confusion and following rough snort made up for it though. "Not like that and you know it, Cow. "

"I'd never presume to know. You do surprise from time to time," Maurus murmured, touching her side briefly with his free hand. "Like those poems. How was it they went?"

"Not here," Arianna said with emphasis, though an undertone in her voice told him she'd relaxed some.

They turned a path and passed a pen filled with strange, beautiful creatures that reminded him of more solid-looking wind serpents or maybe a mix between that and a wind rider, though with far more of a birdlike plumage of scarlet, gold and orange. As he watched, one of them leapt into the misty sky, carrying a blood elf, and quickly disappeared from view.

"Was that what your flame puppet was supposed to be?" Maurus asked, gesturing with the knob of his axe.

Arianna followed his gesture and a moment passed before she said: "Ah. Yes."

"Thought it was a wind serpent," Maurus said.

"That's unlikely. I've never seen one," Arianna replied. "We're here."

Like the other groupings of tents, this one had its own style, something more sinuous than its neighbors, that distinctly reminded Maurus of Arianna's robes. The design of the banners by the entrance into the camp-within-a-camp displayed the same style in their emblem, a rising fireball trailing three intertwined tongues of flame.

The mages at the entrance nodded at them with varying degrees of stiffness, except one. That one, a thin woman with hair almost as pale as Maurus' fur, stepped forward, a smile lighting her sharply edged face, and exclaimed: "Ari!" She clasped Arianna's outstretched hands between hers and added something that Maurus guessed was a warm greeting, mostly by the tone.

"You too," Arianna replied, with an air of long-suffering patience that failed to hide a genuine fondness as the elf bent down to pat Ash once on his bony head.

As the elf rose, her eyes ran over Arianna's robe before moving to Maurus again, turning curious. Then she glanced at one of the other elves by the entrance, who simply waved a hand at her. She saluted and fell into step beside Arianna, giving Maurus another look before addressing Arianna in their native tongue.

Maurus pursed his lips and gave the elf a flat look. She didn't react.

"Telinth, I didn't know you were here," Arianna said patiently. Pointedly she added: "And you are being rude."

Telinth blinked, raising almost transparent eyebrows.

Arianna sighed. "Telinth Stardown, this is Wiven Redspark and Calen Oakleaf." She gestured to each in turn before putting a hand on Maurus' arm. "And this is Maurus, of the Ragetotem."

Telinth's brows rose further and she tilted her head as if she thought the change in angle would make a difference, before glancing at Calen as well. Arianna let out another, if very minute, sigh and said: "This is my cousin, Telinth Flameweaver."

Wiven politely murmured a sentence that had the air of a customary greeting and when Maurus gave him an annoyed look, he simply smirked.

Maurus opened his mouth to greet Telinth, but before he could, recognition flashed in Telinth's eyes and she said: "Uncle Calen. How have you been?"

"Fine, thank you," Calen said. Maurus looked from him to Arianna and back to Telinth. "Trying, with varying success, to keep our waywards from straying too far."

Maurus blew out a breath, struck his fist against his chest and said, trying and mostly succeeding to hide his annoyance: "Well met, Telinth."

Again, there was that moment of confusion in her face and she began saying something in Thalassian, only to be interrupted by Arianna: "Manners, Telinth! Don't exclude my-" She trailed off, tilting her head. If it hadn't been for the half-smirk and the honest consideration and question in her expression as she glanced at him, Maurus would have been put off by the pause.

"Lover?" Telinth tried.

Maurus couldn't quite decipher her tone, but something he thought he heard in it that fanned the low burn of irritation all the looks had sparked. He shifted his axe to his other hand and wrapped his now free hand around Arianna's side. "Not quite yet, no," he said lowly, glancing around. Despite feeling dismay that some of those that had greeted Arianna was giving him hard looks, he also felt a defiant satisfaction while inwardly breathing a little sigh of relief that there wasn't quite the outrage he'd feared. A smirk curled his lips. "Not for lack of trying though. She's skittish as a doe sometimes."

Arianna snorted derisively, but leaned into him, matching his steps with a little effort. "Skittish? Hardly." Turning to Telinth, who now looked somewhat taken aback, she added: "I think, companion, fits for the moment."

"That doesn't translate much less scandalously," Telinth said. Arianna gave a slight toss of her head which seemed to mostly match Maurus' feeling on that matter.

"She always was adventurous," Telinth said, speaking directly to Maurus for the first time, gesturing with a hand to Arianna's staff and to Ash, who was bounding ahead. To Arianna, she added: "Though I didn't really believe you were getting _that_ friendly with the exotic."

Maurus thought he finally figured out how to interpret Telinth's tone. It seemed she _was_ actually trying to wrap her head around his and Arianna's situation and trying, somewhat ineptly, to be polite about it.

"Life is strange, but not without joy," Arianna said, shrugging. Her tone became serious as she asked: "Where do we stand?"

Telinth's expression grew more somber, though also more comfortable. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then said: "Some think we made a mistake with the Horde. Not that I blame them. No offense to you, tauren, but trolls, orcs and undead are the bane of our people. Dawnwing thinks they have a solution of course: Simply take off and find our Prince. They have a lot of support for the general idea."

"Because going roaring off into the unknown on this crumbling, void-blasted, felstained rock seems a good idea," Arianna said acidly.

"We don't have the dragonhawks for it anyway. Never had," Calen said darkly. "And we are far too few to go by land alone."

"And I guess it still ruffles everyone's feathers to be under Horde leadership," Arianna said. Telinth just nodded.

"Proud fools. More plentiful than dew at dawn," Arianna said.

Maurus snorted and Arianna elbowed him gently. In answer, he said: "You're one to talk."

"I respect my superiors and obey reasonable orders. You're worse, you grumble at every order you get."

"I've gotten better," Maurus responded mildly.

"True," Arianna said. She looked ahead, held up a hand and they all stopped.

They'd reached the middle of this particular section of blood elf camp, where a number of larger tents were arranged in a circle. Guards were posted around them, both robed casters and plate-clad fighters. The latter consisted mostly of blood knights, in armor almost identical to Calen's, but a few wore crimson helmets shaped like face-framing wings and wielded double-bladed swords. Maurus' eyes widened as he recognized the renowned spell breakers.

None of the guards showed even a hint of emotion and Maurus could only just see that the closest five had turned their gazes on the little group. If he hadn't been spending so much time with blood elves, he doubted he could have seen even that little change in the almost solid green of their eyes.

"Grand uncle will have gotten confirmation by now," Telinth said. Showing their relation, she said in exactly the same dry tone as Arianna: "I doubt he'll be as thrilled as I am."

"I appreciate your open mind," Arianna said, matching Telinth's tone and Maurus wondered for a moment whether he'd misjudged Telinth's opinion. He pushed the thought away, reminding himself that Arianna had told him to relax. Arianna added: "Were you supposed to hold us up?"

Telinth actually laughed. "No. And if I did, I did very poorly." She looked up, rolled her eyes and looked back at Arianna. "I should get back. It _was_ good to see you. Please don't stay away so long the next time. And when you re-"

She cut herself off and after a moment of silent indecision, she again took hold of Arianna's hand.

"We are going west on the morrow," Arianna said, smiling. "So I make no promises. But I'll keep more of an eye out for you."

"Take care," Telinth said as Arianna withdrew from the hug. Nodding at Calen and Wiven, she added: "Take care Uncle. And you, Wiven. Discipline!"

Looking at Maurus she said, in the most calm and neutral tone she'd used in the entire conversation: "Be thankful. And bear in mind that blood is important to us."

"I am perfectly aware of my luck," Maurus responded calmly, his mouth curving into a faint smirk. It faded as quickly as it appeared and he added flatly: "And I don't need to be told the importance of family."

"Take care," Telinth said again, and began taking quick strides back the way they had come.

Maurus looked at Arianna. "Interesting, that one."

"She meddles in affairs that are none of her business," Wiven said crossly. A flicker of green-tinged light played briefly over his fingers.

"Yeah," Maurus agreed.

Arianna shrugged, but her expression flickered from exasperation and fondness to a smirk that seemed to contain a bit of satisfaction as she turned from the retreating Telinth to Maurus. "She's like many of us. But she cares."

She touched Maurus' arm again and she grew a little more serious, turning back to the tent. "I will ask you to be patient. Don't take what you may hear too much to heart. I haven't missed how we have a reputation for arrogance and it will show here, so err on the side of restraint, even if you take offense."

Maurus frowned, pursing his lips in displeasure. Arianna glanced up at him and her expression lightened a bit as she raised her hand to brush over his cheek. "Within reason of course."

"I can be reasonable," Maurus placidly.

Arianna raised a half-skeptical eyebrow, but just said: "Let's go."

The guards inquired quickly and brusquely to their purpose, confiscating their weapons, before letting them pass, but despite their seeming indifference, Maurus got the feeling they knew Arianna.

Moment's later, they entered one of the tents and Maurus ducked low to step into the most opulent scene he'd had seen since coming to Outland. It reminded him of that one time he'd been in the foyer of Boss Gazlowe's mansion in Ratchet. Beautiful rugs covered the ground and elegant little lamps lit the room in a warm glow that had a faint trace of green. The air had a caustic bite of fel and concentrated magic and sharp scent of smoke. Maurus wrinkled his nose as he knelt to avoid dragging his head along the low canopy, which was clearly intended for the elf-sized.

As they entered, the small group of elves in the room looked up from the collection of parchments, mostly maps, arranged between them. The elves were all some shade of blonde, their silken hair carefully styled to complete the image that their fine clothes and discreet jewelry presented. They were a vision of red and gold sober wealth and Maurus had never seen someone as elaborately and ridiculously well-groomed, especially not since the journey to Outland had begun.

They practically made Arianna look sloppy.

As the room's occupants spotted Maurus' little group, their expressions changed from varying degrees of bored annoyance. A couple looked slightly surprised, one reddish-blond looked amused and several others showed a restrained kind distaste. One man though, with something of Arianna's angular features and a finer hair of exactly the same shade, simply emptied his face of emotion, except for a slight narrowing of his eyes.

There was a moment of tense silence where the two groups just stared at each other. Most of the elves schooled their expression pretty quickly, but the amused-looking man's smile grew scornful as he glanced at the one Maurus guessed to be Arianna's uncle. Arianna's supposed relative didn't react to it though and instead spoke something that sounded like an uncommonly cordial order.

Rather pointedly, Arianna quietly translated: "They're stuck anyway. Might as well break up."

With little fuss, most of the elves frose, exchanged goodbyes, which Maurus was surprised to notice he pretty much understood, and left. They were followed by a group of attendants he hadn't even noticed standing at the edges of the tent, leaving just a small, pale-haired woman, a trio of attendants and the apparent leader in the room with them. The latter waved them forward with a gesture that gave the impression that he was being incredibly gracious.

They came forward, Maurus moving carefully to avoid disturbing anything. All three elves bowed at the waist and Maurus struck his fist against his chest, the salute awkward on one knee. They got a slight, imperious nod in return and another greeting Maurus didn't understand.

"My Lord Alneiden," Arianna said, somehow packing both politeness and reproof into the two words, and tilting her head subtly to Maurus. "We have a guest."

The lines of Alneiden's face got harder as he ran his eyes over the four of them and there was distaste in the set of his jaw when he said: "I bid you welcome." As his gaze returned to Arianna, sweeping disapprovingly from her booted feet and up to her face he added: "I'm afraid I am a stranger to some of your acquaintances, niece."

Maurus kept most of his indignation at the elf's manner from his face but his tone was calm and only brusquely cordial when Arianna introduced him and Wiven to her uncle. Alneiden's expression didn't grow any milder at either of their greetings and he studied them in silence for a long moment.

"So, this Ragetotem. He is?" Alneiden said significantly, drawing out the question as he met Maurus' gaze.

Maurus wanted to tell him exactly who he was, what he was doing and what he might do to an arrogant elf if he didn't change his tone, but he held his tongue as Arianna had requested.

"What is of consequence to you is that he is the leader of the unit I'm attached to at the moment," Arianna said, voice flat.

"So, you intend to continue this senseless wandering then?" Alneiden asked.

The set of Arianna's shoulders became more tense. "If you think I've been aimless, you need better birds."

"You have a duty," Alneiden said slowly. "And instead of doing it, you waste your time in the Old Lands and mingle with rabble."

"I came to tell you that I intend to fulfill my duty. And my obligation to our allies," Arianna said, voice growing cold. "So I'll be going west with the 27th. I thought I'd do you the courtesy of telling you in person."

Alneiden's eyes narrowed. "You call this a courtesy?" He asked, gesturing at Arianna with a sweep of his hand. "Eschewing the colors of your House? Showing up to throw ash at our need for unity?"

"I think we should remember _our_ obligations. It would be wise for us to show our commitment to the Horde, rather than fan the rumors. Half the camp to expects us to desert and if you haven't noticed, the Horde is even less lenient with deserters than we are."

"And turning your back on our House will assuage that worry?" Aleiden asked, a low burn in his voice. "We joined the Horde for strength, not to let ourselves be absorbed by our former enemies. Our interests align, but there will come a time when they don't."

"I haven't turned my back on anything," Arianna said, voice hard and Ash's growl filled the tent. "The Horde will stand by us, if we show them our worth and loyalty. We have to do that, if we are to survive and find our Prince."

"By any means?" Aleiden snapped and fury became plain to see on his face. "It's not enough that we rub elbows with trolls, with orcs, with the dead that destroyed our kingdom? Was it not enough for you to take the fel into your body, but you must also welcome beasts? That depravity might make sense to your burnt-out brain but-"

Maurus struck a fist into his open palm, the smack of it loud and unexpected enough to stop Alneiden's tirade. Belly burning with anger, he growled: "Hold your tongue or I will rip it out!"

Aleiden's eyes glowed a shade brighter as he said, fire crackling in his voice: "I'd burn you from the inside out."

"Not before I pulp you brain, you filthy hypocrite," Maurus answered, meeting Aleiden's glare with a burning one of his own. Somewhere beneath his own fury, he noted that his kneeling stance was perfect if he wanted to spring forward at the elf. His only half-armored form was poorly suited to fighting a mage, but at this distance, he had a good chance if it came to that. "Your eyes are as green as hers and the fel is almost as thick as the smoke in here. And the only one talking addled nonsense is you." Maurus cracked the knuckles of one hand. "So consider your words carefully before you insult her again. She may be family. But I'm not."

Maurus could feel the shift in the tent, feel the ethereal flow as Alneiden breathed in more than air. Before he could speak though, Arianna spoke, voice low and intent: "I ask you not to insult Maurus. He cares about honor. Mine. And his own. And that of his people. Honor is the lifeblood of the Horde. They honor their allies and their promises." Very pointedly, she asked: "Shouldn't we be _better_ than the so-called savages?"

Alneiden's silent glare encompassed all four of them. The woman at his side, her face milder if far from friendly, discreetly touched a hand to his arm. He took another deep breath and exhaled as if he'd shed a heavy weight. His voice was calmer, though it still simmered with anger as he said: "Honor. And what about the impact this dalliance has on ours?"

"I don't care," Arianna said, putting pressure on each word. A hint of angry flippancy came into her words as she continued: "That flame has caught hold anyway. And we got used to humans didn't we? No one minded a certain infatuation with Proudmoore."

Aleiden's lip lifted in a grimace that melted into a sour look, his eyes flicking to Maurus. Maurus met his eyes steadily, having to make an effort not to bare his teeth.

"The humans at least-" Alneiden began, but Arianna interrupted him: "I'm not here to hear your thoughts on my involvement with Maurus."

Alneiden's expression gained a shade of disgust.

"I came, as a loyal member of the House, to inform you of my intentions and give what aid I could."

"Aid?"

"I've given you my best advice. And made a statement to the camp." Arianna gestured to Wiven and Calen. "We are finding our place within the Horde. We're not the only ones."

"Don't let your misguided affection blind you. An alliance of convenience won't last," Aleiden said, his words gaining an edge of bitterness.

"Do not think so little of our motives," Calen said darkly. "We do what we think best."

Out the corner of his eyes, Maurus saw Wiven nod, his face as serious as he had ever seen it.

"Who knows?" Arianna said sardonically. "Maybe a campaign against our common foe is fertile ground for _making_ it a lasting arrangement."

Alneiden snorted, but didn't speak. After a tense moment, he said, the words acerbic: "Is there anything else, niece? More scandal to confirm maybe?"

Arianna schooled her expression, but her eyes were cold. "No, Uncle. I've said my piece." She nodded at both seated elves. "I am glad to see you and yours well. I hope we live to see each other again."

"One sentiment we at least share," Alneiden said, his tone becoming more cordial, though not losing its edge entirely. "Anyone else?"

Both Wiven and Calen stated their intention to follow Maurus. Maurus himself considered speaking for a moment, but decided he couldn't trust himself to be anything close to polite and instead just shook his head.

Alneiden watched them for a long moment and then nodded. "If that is all, you can go," he said. His face grew dark and lined as he said, the words slow, heavy and admonishing: "Remember the fallen."

The three elves echoed him, bowing and Maurus repeated his Horde style salute.

* * *

A short while later found Maurus and Arianna walking back through the blood elf camp, having left Wiven and Calen to see friends and family before they set off west. They walked in silence, Maurus quietly trying to shrug off the seething urge to go back and beat Aleiden into paste and Arianna taking long determined strides, her face hard.

Figuring that he at least could do that much, Maurus asked quietly: "Are you alright?"

Arianna sagged slightly and as she glanced at Maurus, there was a mix of anger, relief and pain on her face, which only heightened Maurus' urge to go back for some violence. A little bitterly, she said: "Proud fools, I think I said."

"How is he the leader of-" Maurus frowned, wondering at the meaning of the following words: "your House?"

"He is usually more composed. Colder," Arianna said. The anger came forward again and Ash let out a low, almost imperceptible growl. "How _dare_ he talk about you like that?"

Maurus blinked, surprise and warmth soothing his anger, though not quite quelling it. "I've heard worse," Maurus said, not quite managing to sound as nonchalant as he'd intended. He put a hand on her shoulder, one finger brushing her neck. Judging by how Arianna leaned into it, it was a welcome gesture. "Did I shame you when I interfered?"

Arianna's lips quirked up for a brief moment and she shook her head. "Not really. In truth, it gave me a welcome bit of breathing room. I didn't expect him to be that tasteless."

Maurus opened his mouth, an apologetic comment forming in his head, but he shut his mouth again, remembering her insistence that he stop worrying about the disapproval of her people. "I appreciate your standing up for me," he said somberly.

Surprisingly, Arianna's eyes flashed again. He just had time to wonder if he had said something wrong somehow before she shifted her staff to the crook her arm, grabbed hold of both of his horns and pulled. Caught off guard, he didn't resist and Arianna pulled his head down and into a forceful kiss. It lasted a couple of heartbeats, their mismatched lips pressing together as Maurus responded readily but making no effort to deepen the kiss, before Arianna withdrew.

Her features had softened slightly, but there was a sharp half-smirk on her lips as she wiped a hand over them and there was still a defiant glint in her eyes. Maurus found that he cared very little for the elves around them, except for the mirth their shock kindled in his belly. His mouth curled into a grin as gazed at his stubborn elf.

"Drills today?" Arianna asked, letting her hands fall from his horns, one to his throat and the other to grasp her staff properly again.

"A few this afternoon," Maurus confirmed. "A little free time makes for happier and better prepared marchers."

Arianna leaned in a little. "Make sure to indulge your fondness for bathing before evening comes."

Maurus' heart beat a little harder and a grin crept onto his face. It faded after a short moment though and he said: "I don't want this if it's out of spite."

Arianna's face grew a little darker. "I wouldn't do something so important just to spite him. Though I will admit he gave me the last little push I needed to overcome my reservations. At a good time too, we should indulge while we're as safe as we are now."

Maurus pursed his lips and Arianna sniffed. "What did I say about soothing silliness?" She asked, mock annoyance in her voice. She put a hand on his cheek, warm and soft around the scars, and she looked him up and down, adding in a sly voice: "Make no mistake, I _am_ interested."

An expression somewhere between irritation and embarrassment appeared for a brief moment on her face. "But you are huge. And important," she said emphasizing the last word. "I needed to work up a little courage."

Maurus' lips split into a wide, wolfish grin as he discarded his reservations and worries, feeling his body thrum with anticipation. His hand found her cheek, enveloping that side of her head. "I have to reward that courage," he said, rumbling it low in his throat. He leaned in and kiss her lightly. "You deserve nothing less, Love."

Arianna expression was bordering on smug, but there was a soft fondness and a hint of anxiousness in her eyes that belied the self-assured expression.

"We should get the day over with," Arianna said casually, withdrawing and seemingly making the world come flooding back into Maurus' perception. Backs straight, with a grin and a smirk which dared anyone to comment, they walked back toward their camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can probably see where this is going. It's getting its own chapter, so the squeamish and those that have no faith in my ability to write sex scenes can skip it effectively.


	18. Interlude: Fumbles and Fulfillment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, now I've definitely earned my M-rating. I'm really nervous about this. This is, I hope, a lot of fluff and some (maybe a bit of a lot) sex that I hope is neither bland nor tasteless. I tried for warm and fun, but still somewhat steamy. It does get fairly explicit, so if you don't want to read the sex bit but want to read the fluff, I recommend jumping from whenever you get uncomfortable and to "She slipped her hands beneath one of his". That sentence is not as racy as it may sound.
> 
> Then again, I'm not sure this gets more intimately explicit than some of my descriptions of carnage. Let me know, if you want. I just hope I didn't break my neck completely on this. If I did, let me know. Either way, normal plot will mostly resume in the next chapter and I apologize to those who may think this is senseless, tasteless filler.
> 
> As always, I really want to know what you think. And if you think this detracts mightily from the whole of the story, I would like to know, because then I will remove it and repost it as a sidestory. It does not further the war plot much after all.
> 
> The fortress bit is inspired by Diplomacy. I imagine Jaina and Arianna might have read the same poetry at some point.
> 
> Also, a recommendation: If you like witty and cute couples of quite different races, I recommend reading "Technically Flirting" and it's sequel by Bookah, on fanfiction.net. It might be Guild Wars, but I know little about that fandom and the only thing I think it's necessary to know is what the different races look like to understand the wonderful little gem. It is woefully underappreciated if you ask me.

 

Chasing Through Hell

Fumbles and Fulfillment

Maurus lay in his tent, listening to quiet, muffled murmur of the camp, looking up at the pale fabric stretched out above him, lit a warm gold by the two small lamps he'd placed along the sides of his tent. Despite the unusual brightness, the noise and soft light was soothing and on top of the comfortable, fluffy feeling of properly clean fur and skin, it would usually have lulled him to sleep. Instead he was wide awake. H body thrummed with vague excitement and beneath the hands he'd placed over his bare belly, his stomach fluttered a little.

In the privacy of his own head, he could admit that he was a little nervous and despite the slight blow to his pride, he could accept it as reasonable. The woman he was waiting for was, after all, significantly older than him, entirely different from anyone he'd ever been with and felt much more important.

Less reasonable, he told himself, were the treacherous recurring thoughts that Arianna would be wholly unimpressed with him. The thought that either her age or her decided un-taurenness would make his skills useless, even if he wasn't out of practice, kept sneaking into his head. He rebutted with halfhearted conviction that she couldn't be that different, or jaded, and that he definitely hadn't been out of practice when he'd tumbled pretty, strong Chesta the night they'd reached Ratchet.

The thoughts went back and forth like that for a little while, before he shook his head in annoyance at the stupidity of it. It was ridiculous, he hadn't felt anything close to that nervousness since Anko, more than a decade ago, before he'd even left Mulgore, and, he told himself, it was pointless to feel so nervous now.

He blew out an irritated snort, sat up and reached for the bag with his tools and bones. His hand stopped halfway there when a slender hand pushed the tent-flap aside and, it seemed, most of the worry. What remained crystallized into something anxious which could have been both eagerness and excitement.

Arianna appeared in the opening. Unusually, her hair was down, falling in slight curls around her face, softening her angular features. It was not the only thing unusual about her. A soft shape had been painted just beneath her left eye and both of her eyes were edged darker than usual, making her luminous green eyes even more striking as they found his. Her lips, already set in her usual smirk, quirked a bit higher as she took in his pose, awkwardly frozen half-leaned forward.

"May I come in?" She asked. She made it sound like a jest, but he thought there was a timbre of anxiousness in it as well.

"Please," Maurus responded warmly, his voice much more confident than he would have thought it could have been moments before. He shuffled back a bit, making more room for her.

As he did, he ran his eyes down her body and the first thing he noticed was the bone necklace that still graced her neck. The sight of it made up for the very slight bit disappointment he felt that she'd worn her old, red-and-gold robe, as did the way the garment left her arms and throat bare and clung pleasingly close to her slight curves.

"Quite bright in here," Arianna observed, letting the tent flap fall closed behind her.

"I'd like to be able to see properly tonight," Maurus replied amiably. "You're back in your old colors."

"This one is lighter. Easier to move in," Arianna answered, crawling forward to kneel between his outstretched leg before placing her scarred palms on Maurus' cheeks. He readily let her draw his head down toward her, swallowing the little clump of herbs he'd been chewing and wrapping his hands around her back, feeling scars through the thin fabric. She paused an inch from his nose, so close that he could smell a faint hint of something sweet and flowery on her, and added pleasantly: "Very easy to take off."

A bit of heat stirred in Maurus, which only grew when she kissed him. As always, he was struck by how small and how hot her lips were, a feverish softness against his. Following on that thought came the realization that a year ago, he would have been repulsed by the faint hint of fel that made his lips tingle, but now, he found he quite enjoyed the feeling. A ghost of a chuckle rolled up through his throat and Arianna must have felt it, because when she drew back, she raised a long, golden eyebrow in question.

Maurus was about to say that she was corrupting him, but the sudden flash of his nightmare, as well as the memory of some of the comments Arianna had suffered, made the comment seem not funny at all.

"It's nothing," he said. He raised a hand to cup the side of her face, resting a thick finger beside the marking under her eye. The wetness beneath his hand, where his lips had engulfed both her mouth and her cheeks, reminded him that they still hadn't figured out how to kiss without getting his spit all over her cheeks and that more heated kisses would only make it worse. The thought made mirth win forward again and he smiled as he softly said: "You've prettied yourself up. And you smell of flowers."

"Roses," Arianna replied, with an emphasis that made it clear that it was significant. She brushed her fingers over the fur on his cheeks and her eyes wandered down over his chest before coming back up to his face. "You did a bit of grooming yourself. I don't recall you being this soft. Or so cleanly white."

Her gaze lowered to his lips. "Or tasting of lemongrass."

Maurus smiled and leant in again, pressing a kiss against her lips that held a bit more heat than the previous. When he withdrew, she took a slow breath before her smirk reasserted herself and her eyes drifted to the left of his face. "Did you polish your horns?"

Maurus grinned. "That was supposed to be your-" he began, then made a show of cutting himself off, and, as if he'd caught a mistake he'd made, said: "Oh. Those. A little. They needed some care."

Arianna's smirk faded to an unimpressed look, but her eyes remained amused. "You're being crude."

Maurus lowered the hand that was still on her back, placed it on her rear and pushed her toward him, so she was a couple of inches from his face without even leaning forward. As he did, he appreciated the thinness of her robe and again noted how strange it was that she lacked a tail. "I think it's a good sign that my mind is wandering in that direction. Don't you?"

Arianna let out a humming sound of agreement and shifted, lifting her leg over Maurus' right and sitting down. Her smooth legs pressed against the sides of his wide thigh and, much more immediate to his senses, he felt soft, naked warmth press against the top of his thigh. His gaze dipped to where her red robe folded over his thigh while a burst of heat swept up his leg and into his loins, making the breechcloth he was wearing seem a little tighter. It seemed a little more so when he dragged his gaze back up her body and thought he could see two points pressing against the robe and betraying some excitement.

Arianna's expression had gained a pleased edge, one that grew when Maurus adjusted his hands, placing them on her hips so his large fingers covered much of her lower back and backside. Circling his thumbs lazily against her, he said pleasantly: "I'd actually expected you to be more clothed."

"That goes against the point of the exercise, doesn't it?" She asked slyly. She twisted the slightest bit, a sensation Maurus was very aware of, as her eyes roamed over his body as blatantly as his had over hers. A frown appeared momentarily as her eyes stopped at a few points on his torso, but before Maurus could ask about it, she leant in to capture his mouth in a heated kiss, teased him with her tongue and allowing his to push into her mouth.

"True," Maurus replied, a little roughly, when they broke for air and saw that, true enough, a lot of moisture had been left on Arianna's face. His tongue tingled and his nose was full of the odd mix of the scent of her skin and the roses. "How in the world did you find roses?" He asked placidly, idly caressing Arianna's back with one hand. A little more soberly, he voiced the following thought: "And should I know the significance of them? Or of your elegant little mark?"

"Our herbalists are very resourceful," Arianna said lightly. A hint of embarrassment flashed over her face and she spoke a little quickly when she continued: "Roses are often associated with marriage. It was half-whim, but also seemed fitting. This is not just a random tumble beneath the sheets after all."

Maurus felt a mix of nervousness, guilt and affection swirl in his belly. "Definitely. But I hadn't thought that far ahead yet," he said, a little of the guilt slipping into his voice. His tone grew lighter as he pondered: "Though we could consider this whole thing our courtship hunt."

Arianna let out a little snort and gave him a quick kiss. "It is a little soon to be thinking along those lines," she admitted. "But I wanted to make a grand gesture."

"I appreciate grand gestures," Maurus rumbled, smiling, and bent down to press his lips to her throat.

He'd only just touched her when she recoiled with a sharp little exhalation and he jerked back in response. Arianna was leaning back against his hands, but any discomfort was already melting away from her face, her expression turning wry. She raised a hand and put her finger on the tip of his horn. "Careful with those," she admonished him lightly.

Maurus let out a little growl and leaned back in, making sure to tip his head a little, pressing a few kisses down her throat, then licked her almost from her neckline to her chin.

Arianna let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a hum of pleasure. Her hands moved back behind his head, trailing aimless warmth along the fur on his neck. "You really do have a huge tongue," she said, amusement evident in her tone.

Maurus rolled out his tongue and covered her throat from right to left for a moment, before saying wryly: "I'm guessing we can get more use out of it than I'm used to. I won't get so much hair in my mouth."

Arianna kissed the top of his nose and he looked up into her eyes. Her eyes glowed, not just with the fel light, and he was glad the lamps made her beautiful face so different from his dream. Her hands were stroking slowly, more purposefully along his neck as she asked: "So, you're more fondling and caressing?"

Maurus dragged the fingers of one hand up along Arianna's side and in between trailing his mouth down toward her collarbone, he answered, his voice lowered by the pleasant feeling of Arianna's hands: "In some respects. But I'm willing to learn."

The murmur against her skin got a reaction, a faint shiver that ran through Arianna's entire body. It felt like she was getting warmer and when his hand came up beneath her arm and he rolled a thumb over her breast, the hard nub, tiny against his thumb, confirmed his earlier impression.

He smiled against her skin, both relieved and gratified at her obvious excitement. He felt himself swell in response to that, and grew a bit more when Arianna left hand wandered lower, nails dragging down his skin before her fingers rolled over his sensitive nipple.

"Seems we've found something we have in common," Arianna murmured, fingers hot and tickling on his chest. He blinked when the fingers of Arianna's other hand caressed his ear, a ghostly warm and pleasant sensation.

He chuckled, mouth moving along the neckline of Arianna's dress, dipping below the bone charms ringing her neck. "Are your ears something I should pay attention to?" He asked.

"Not really," Arianna replied, toying with his ear to surprisingly distracting effect. "Only some have sensitive ears. Like you."

Maurus raised his head and Arianna moved her hand to his cheek to guide the long kiss they shared, while her left hand kept drawing feathery touches over his chest. When it drifted low and ran along the edge of the scar on his belly, he realized that her movements weren't entirely aimless and abruptly understood her earlier frown.

But when they paused, she looked lazily content, so he saw no need to comment on his scars. Instead, as his fingers still idly caressed her, thumbs brushing over her nipple and the spot where her tail ought to have been, he rumbled: "I don't think this will be as hard as I feared."

Arianna's right hand trailed down over his stomach down to cup the bulging breechcloth very briefly, before she lifted her fingers to his face. "Oh, I hope it will be," she said, her smile turning a little wicked.

"Now who's crude?" Maurus chuckled, avoiding Arianna's lips just long enough to get the words out. Smiling into the kiss, he slid his hand down further along her behind, sliding a finger between her buttocks, beneath her robe and in between her soft folds.

Arianna let out a soft breath around his tongue, but it was a moment before she drew back. Her eyes were half-lidded, though her voice was as much teasing as it was eager when she said: "Getting impatient?"

"Only to please you," he said, lowering his mouth to her throat again, moving his hand from her chest to her back. "This is in the way," he added, nudging the neckline of her robe with his nose before slipping his tongue beneath it briefly, sliding it over her right breast and drawing a quick, quiet inhale from her.

"Not entirely," Arianna said, pressing down against the hand he had beneath her. The slight breathiness in her voice almost vanished in her indulgent tone when she said: "But you have a point."

She pushed his head back, leaned back against his hand and grabbed the hem of her robe. In a single, sinuous motion, she pulled the garment over head and the warm light flowed over her skin like liquid amber as she revealed herself, naked and radiant and almost burning hot where he touched her.

She was so very different from what he was used to. Instead rolling, muscular curves, she was slender like a young tree, though her leanly muscled body had gained a bit more healthy curves since he'd seen her in the oasis. Instead of wide expanses of soft, most often dark fur, she was all hairless, pale skin and her nipples were a brown-pink, rather than the far darker color he was used to. The folds pressed against his finger were a shade darker than the rest of her skin and a slit of dark pink was visible between them.

The burst of warm lust that the sight of her sent through him was tempered by a flash of anger at the pain her body also revealed. Her scars weren't the most impressive he'd ever seen, nor as extensive as the ones on her back, but they did plentiful on such a slim frame. There were what looked like shallow claw-marks running over her left breast and lower stomach. A handful of small lines of raised skin and small pock-marks were spattered over her stomach and thighs and a burn as wide as her palm and as long as her hand marred her side.

An edge of anxiety and defiance had crept into her gaze when he raised his eyes to her face again.

"You are a wildly beautiful creature," Maurus said, a mix of emotions in his throat making it come out low and rough. The hint of anxiety in Arianna's expression became half-smug delight and her cheeks reddened the slightest bit, unless the lamps' light had suddenly changed.

"You're a magnificent sight yourself," Arianna replied pleasantly, running her eyes quite blatantly over his broad shoulders and down over his chest. "This will get in the way though," she said, a little quickly, and her hands darted down to his side. Before he could blink, she loosened the string holding his breechcloth in place and the cloth fell away, half pulled by Arianna, half-pushed by his freed member.

'She sure knew where that knot was,' Maurus just managed to think before a short, startled laugh burst from Arianna's lips. It felt like a slap and he frowned, pursing his lips as he felt himself actually shrink a little.

"You know, that is not the reaction we want when revealing our manhood," he grumbled.

Arianna looked up at him, her expression turning apologetic for a moment before relaxing into a softly amused expression. She rested her hands on his thigh, rolled her hips in a little, soft circle and said: "In all honesty, I'm just relieved you're not hung like a literal bull. Or proportioned like elves."

Maurus gave her a flat look, but the momentary dismay evaporated at her words and he couldn't keep the wry smile hidden for more than a moment. "I never thought I'd hear compliments for being small. Also, you little folk are freakishly endowed."

Arianna chuckled and looked down at herself, tensing her thighs around Maurus' leg. Maurus followed her gaze happily, but didn't miss her meaning. Considering her frame, it was lucky that tauren were differently proportioned.

He was dragged out of that thought and sucked in an involuntary breath when Arianna's fever-hot hand wrapped around his length, thin fingers soft compared to her scarred palm. "I think we can make this work," she said. She stroked him slowly and he took a heavy breath at the sensation, a novel one, seeing as the size of tauren hands made other methods more common. "With a little effort," she admitted after a moment.

Maurus idly caressed Arianna in return, paying a little closer attention to the sensation, a feat she made somewhat difficult. She made a soft, pleased sound that turned a little questioning when he chuckled and he smiled at her, placing his other hand on her thigh, thumb brushing down over her mound. "Somehow, I'd forgotten to worry about size."

"Stupid bull," Arianna said fondly.

They exchanged more kisses, Arianna's free hand guiding them while they caressed each other. She ground herself against him as she stroked him and Maurus readily moved his fingers in response, glad to feel that his touch seemed to have as much effect on her as hers had on him. Her breathing was growing heavier like his and her warmth and wetness became more noticeable while he felt a slowly building tension in his groin.

He frowned into a kiss when she pushed back more and eased his touch as she slid back over his leg, her hand never leaving him. A little reluctantly, feeling it wasn't quite fair to her, he let his hand trail up over her back and come to rest over her shoulders along with his other hand.

He tilted his head in question, raising an eyebrow. Her response was a playful smirk as she frustratingly stopped her fingers at the root of his member. She held his gaze for a moment and then bent down, tucking a lock of hair behind her long ears, and took him into her mouth.

His breath hitched at the sheer heat that slowly enveloped him and it was a slight effort not to tighten his grip on her shoulders. She moved slowly, feeling around him with tongue and lips, attentive and careful, something he was grateful for because her teeth grazed him a few times before she adjusted to his size.

He should not have enjoyed how he felt the same tingle as when she kissed him, but it only added to the pleasure and when she slowly increased the pace of her movements his breathing became labored and the pleasant tension tightened in him. It wasn't long before her movements became more confident and Maurus let one of his hands fall from Arianna to support himself as he leaned back and simply gave himself over to Arianna's heated touch. His eyes were threatening to drift closed but he kept them open, not wanting to miss a moment of the beautiful and inflaming sight of Arianna's naked body before him.

Amidst the immediateness of Arianna's mouth and the mounting, tightening deep in his body, he almost failed to notice that Arianna's breathing was also heavy, and ticklish, on him and he could feel her rubbing herself against his leg and somewhere in the heady heat of his mind, he found himself absurdly pleased that she was enjoying it too.

His heart thudded in his chest and the tension became greater and greater, gathering as his heartbeat sped up, and the need began to feel desperate. Despite wanting nothing more than to just let the pleasure continue, Maurus drudged up some willpower and said breathlessly: "Arianna... I... "

She pulled off of him, giving him a lick as she turned her eyes up to him. He saw her expression, teasing and challenging as she took a deep breath before taking him back in her mouth. She seemed eager now, feeling that his release was close, and her hand began stroking him whenever her mouth moved up his length, adding a second layer to the already intense feeling.

Maurus found himself trying to hold himself back, to prolong the pleasure, but it was impossible to do so for long. The tension tightened and heated even more rapidly and a few dozen heartbeats was all he could hold out before the coiling pleasure came apart in a wave of shuddering, bright sensation. Arianna didn't lift her head off him, but instead went down till her lips were touching the fingers she had around him and stayed there till the small jerks petered out and he shrank.

Only then did she look up at Maurus, looking exceedingly satisfied with herself, though also somewhat disheveled. The strands of hair had come loose from behind her ears and she was sucking in deep breaths.

Maurus' lips formed a tired smile without his conscious effort. "That was... Very, very pleasant."

"That was the intent," Arianna answered smugly, dragging herself toward him again and leaning in to kiss him. He hesitated for a rapid trio of heartbeats and then pushed the hesitation away, meeting her and deepening the kiss almost immediately, forcing down the bit of irrational disgust he felt at tasting himself in her mouth. He did quickly trail his lips down her throat again though, tasting more salt than before and smiling when she let out a quiet, breathy approval.

"Your turn, Love," he said when he drew back after a moment and pulled her with him when he lay down. She yelped, the sound more giddy than usual, when he rolled over and placed her beneath him before resuming his path down to her shoulders. One hand kept his weight off her, while the other trailed down her body, his pointer finger sliding down between her breasts, over her stomach and between her legs, finding her as aroused as before.

Finding her little nub, tiny compared to his fingers, was a little hard, especially while tracing his lips and tongue down the spots he would usually caress with his hands, but her sudden gasp when he did, as well as the growing confidence that she really wasn't so different, made him grin against her collarbone.

The grin widened when he felt her twist beneath his fingers as he licked over her scarred breast and as he explored her body, her small writhes and soft exhales were as musical to his ears as her taste and feel was delightful to his hand and tongue. He moved slowly down, much slower than her hand on his head seemed to demand, taking his time to caress, kiss, lick and nip at her breasts and stomach, tracing around many of her scars. Her need inflamed his own, though he ignored it except for enjoying his own growing heat as he continued as agonizingly slow as he could make himself go, fingers never leaving her sex.

He'd just placed a kiss against her mound when his hoof bumped against the back of the tent and he paused. "Maybe we should have found a bigger place," he chuckled. "Move-"

Before he could finish the sentence, Arianna dragged herself backward and turned so her head was almost touching the corner opposite Maurus, lying diagonal in the tent. Her smile showed teeth as she spread her legs for him, waving him forward with three fingers.

Maurus echoed her grin and leaned in toward her, only to stop when she jerked back with a brief little sound of pain. He instantly realized what had happened and couldn't keep back the embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry," he said, raising his head to look up at Arianna. Her smile had turned a little annoyed, or maybe rather impatient, but not at all pained.

"I have half a mind to sand those down," she said, as Maurus softly stroked the spot he'd poked and bent back in, moving carefully and tilting his head. It put his mouth at an odd tilt to her engorged lips, but she made a noise of approval when he ran his tongue over her.

She was smaller and hotter than anything he'd ever experienced and she tasted different than he'd expected, but he savored the experience nonetheless, then had to chuckle when he felt his tongue begin to tingle again. The rumble of that seemed to surprise her, making her let out a little sound somewhere between a sigh and a hum.

He was as careful as she'd been, leisurely running his tongue over her, tracing her folds while he caressed her stomach, mound and occasionally her little hard nub with his fingers, all senses alert for her reactions. Arianna guided him with quiet shifts in her breathing, minute shivers and sporadic, one- or two-word encouragements, her need slowly becoming more clear in her voice.

He took his sweet time though, delighting in her reactions and her consistent surprise at the reach and width of his tongue. He pressed against her, tongue dipping deep inside her or rounding her nub, his free hand touching her where his tongue wasn't. He kept feeling small rumbles of half-begun chuckles at how his tongue simply kept tingling, but if he wasn't mistaken, that felt good too, so he didn't hold them back.

Her breaths and pulse became heavy and quick, small shudders running through her body. One hand tugged at his horn, while the other brushed over his hand, both motions aimless and insistent and Maurus did what he could to answer her silent demand.

"There," she breathed, and he obediently rolled his tongue over the spot he'd found, and a few heartbeats later, her breath caught in a gasp, her back arched and her legs closed around his horns. Feeling a rush of warm accomplishment, Maurus pressed his lips against her and stayed there as he felt the tremors roll through her body, seeming to echo down his own.

When the trembling faded, Maurus looked up along Arianna's body. The angle and the content expression on her face, as well as her smell and taste was almost intoxicating and as he watched, he felt himself reach full size again. Her chest fell a couple of times as they simply looked at each other, before her smile turned wicked and her eyes challenging.

"Do you have another round in you?" She asked.

"Oh yes," he rumbled heatedly, feeling his hard member pressing against the groundsheet. He picked himself up on his hands, then hesitated. "Maybe you should be on top."

Arianna raised a slender leg, the motion graceful, and prodded his shoulder with a dainty toe. "Roll over then," she demanded lightly.

Maurus readily obeyed and thoroughly enjoyed the sight when Arianna crawled past him and up unto his chest, seating herself, soft and warm, so far down that his member rested between her buttocks. Her expression was mockingly thoughtful as she spread her legs, a motion that didn't take them off Maurus' broad chest.

"I don't think you can comfortably straddle me," Maurus said dryly, guessing at her thoughts.

"Very perceptive," Arianna allowed pleasantly, prodding his nipple with a toe. "That ill-advised climb left me somewhat sore, even without considering the lashes."

Maurus scowled at the memory, but it wasn't hard to banish the anger by focusing on the sight in front of him. He ran his hands up Arianna's legs and up against her side before placing them back down on her thighs.

Arianna tilted her head, considering, and smirked again. "I don't have to straddle you though."

She leaned forward, resting her weight on her hands and after a moment, Maurus went from idly following her movements with her hands to grasping her waist and helping her lift herself so she could pull her legs in under her.

"That works," Maurus rumbled, as she arranged herself so she was kneeling on top of him, her legs on either side of his groin. In truth, her knees dug into his stomach a little, but he could manage and he almost forgot that small discomfort when she lowered a hand to his member and guided him toward her opening.

She hesitated though and as enticing as the meeting of their bodies were, Maurus dragged his gaze up to her face. Her face was rosy and her mouth was quirked in a smile, but he saw a glint of something nervous in her eyes. There might have been a hint of the same emotion in his eyes. Spirits knew he didn't want to hurt her.

He glanced to the side, then the other as he realized he'd gotten the tent turned around at some point, before catching sight of the little glass jar he'd bought earlier, standing by his backpack.

"We could use-" he began, but he trailed off when he looked back at Arianna. She'd followed his gaze and her expression had turned fondly exasperated.

"Trust me, that won't be necessary," Arianna said, laughter simmering beneath her dry tone and lowered her hips to brush against his member to amply demonstrate her readiness.

"It might help," Maurus said.

Arianna snorted derisively and instead of answering him, took a deep, eye-catching breath and lowered herself onto him, eyes closing as she did. She let out a long, open-mouthed exhale and Maurus gave a slow, answering groan as he sank into soft, tight and almost painful heat.

His attention was split between reveling in the feeling, inwardly chuckling at that tingling appearing again, and watching Arianna's face for any hint of discomfort. There was no outright pain, but her almost blank face was not encouraging and he kept his hands ready to lift her off him if necessary.

It took a long, pleasant moment before she stopped, slumping forward and planting both palms on his stomach. To his great relief, she looked up at him with a wicked, open-mouthed smile, rather than the pain he'd feared, and with her facial marking, loose hair and sweat dotting her body, she looked even more alluringly wild than before.

"Seems we fit rather well, after all," she said, her voice sultry and rolled her hips a little. Maurus' breath caught again at the sensation and he ran his hands up so his thumbs could brush over her nipples while he raised his hips a little.

Her little intake of breath was very satisfying, though it paled against the sensation of her lifting herself carefully and descending again, which made him groan in pleasure. She repeated the motion a few more times, each feeling sweeter than the last, as Maurus simply let his hands rest on her hips. Her heavy breaths made her chest rise and fall sensually, but they also made the worry reappear and in spite of Arianna's small smile, he asked: "Does it-

"I'm not made of glass," Arianna said. Her eyes smoldered. "Now do some work, lazy bull."

Comforted by her words, Maurus tightened his grip on her belly, pushing her down on him. Her reaction was an immediate gasp, but before he'd even begun to worry that he had hurt her, she moved with him, her eyes finding his and showing nothing but bright desire.

They moved carefully, slowly figuring out a rhythm and growing more confident. She leaned down and he raised his head to meet her for a brief kiss, their movements only faltering briefly before they separated.

Arianna leaned back in his grip, her back arching and sending another pulse of lust through Maurus. Then her right leg slipped a little and Maurus' grip on her hips tightened while his entire body tensed. To his intense relief, no wrenching agony came and he released the breath he'd been holding in an unsteady sigh.

Surfacing from his momentary panic, he couldn't stop his lips from curling into a crooked grin as he looked at Arianna. She'd thrown her weight forward and sat slightly askew from her slip, with her hands on his chest and her arms taut with effort to hold herself in place. Her eyes were wide and her lips were parted slightly, making a worried expression that was touching but also comically at odds with the hot flush in her cheek and the breaths that puffed out between her lips.

"That was close," Maurus muttered. It came out in an unsteady, deep chuckle.

Arianna's face relaxed, though her body remained tense and Maurus felt a little guilty at the realization that her tension felt good around him.

"You're not the easiest thing to balance on," Arianna said, the heat and slight annoyance blending in her voice and making the words come out in a huff. With a quick movement, she raised herself off him, leaving him feeling suddenly very cold and exposed and he momentarily wished he'd held her there. She moved herself back, sliding down between his legs onto her feet and said: "Sit up, fold your legs."

As he did, closing his legs around Arianna's feet, she turned in his hands. Then she leaned back against his chest before taking hold of him with one hand and guiding him into her as she almost daintily sat down in his lap.

Maurus let out another low groan as she lowered herself till she was flush against him, taking him even deeper than before. He folded his arms around her and pressed her body to his, one hand on her hip, forefinger on her little nub, the other around her stomach. The tent was already hot, but with her within the circle of his arms, flush against him, it seemed to become a great deal hotter, not that he minded in the least.

Arianna's chuckle surprised him, but did nothing to douse his mood and he made a low, questioning sound in his throat. Her hair tickled against his chest as she shook her head a little, putting her small hand over his. "Just an old line of poetry. 'The fortress of your arms'. It doesn't sound ridiculous now."

Maurus stroked his fingers idly over her. "I hope you don't feel trapped," he murmured.

"I think we've equally caught each other," she replied, rolling her hips in his lap and dropping her hands to press against his thighs. He took that as cue and began moving again, raising his hips a bit but mostly just aiding Arianna's movements by lifting her bodily with the grip he had on her.

This time, they quickly found the rhythm and Maurus felt his arousal tightening in his groin again. Pressed so close in their embrace, the heat and pressure was almost dizzying and the feel and smell of her filled his senses. His heart thudded in his chest, his blood pulsing through his veins and his breathing was rapidly becoming loud and ragged.

Arianna was taking unsteady breaths as well, interrupted by quiet moans that he could now hear were as far from pained as they could be and he could feel her pulse quickening, seeming to make her even hotter to the touch, all of which also heightened his own pleasure.

The tension grew and grew and it became a conscious effort for Maurus to keep his movements steady and his grip loose. Arianna was leaned back against him, sliding her back against his chest, her sweat seeping into his fur, a writhing in her movements that both spoke of her own need and pushed Maurus closer to his release.

The pressure was a wonderful little agony and Maurus tensed, wanting to hold on to it for as long as possible but he knew the effort would be fruitless. Arianna was wonderful, warm and sensual to every sense and he couldn't have slowed down if he'd wanted to.

"Don't stop," Arianna gasped, curling a hand up around his neck. In almost immediate, accidental defiance of her demand, came the moment he couldn't hold back anymore. His body tensed with rhythmic shudders as he pressed her down and against him, covering as much of her body with his as he could while he pulsed inside her.

She wriggled, but she could barely move in his tight embrace and it was a couple of heartbeats before the blankness faded from his mind enough to notice her frustrated movements. He was shrinking, but she was still hot and trembling and under the sultry teasing, there was some genuine annoyance when she lamented: "So close."

"Sorry," Maurus rumbled, voice still a little unsteady. He smiled slightly and raised one hand to his mouth while brushing over her nipple with his left hand, before lowering his wetted finger to rub circles over Arianna's little nub. He rolled his hips very gently and added: "Let me see what I can do."

Arianna let out a quiet, almost surprised sound and moved her hips in response to his. The annoyance was gone, leaving only the heated tone when she tried nonchalantly saying: "You really don't shrink much, do you?"

Maurus' smile grew larger, feeling her hard breathing and her pulse against him. "As I said: You're freaks."

"Guess-" Arianna began, but a sudden intake of breath interrupted her. She tried again: "Guess we should be thankful for that."

"Oh, I am," Maurus murmured earnestly. Arianna didn't respond. Her body was tensing in his arms and her head had fallen back to press against his chest. Her hands roamed over the back of his hands in what Maurus took for idle encouragement and her could feel every beat of her heart and every rise of her chest. His own heartbeat, which had calmed somewhat, sped in anticipation as he eagerly caressed her, reveling in her reactions.

His efforts bore fruit before long. Arianna made a weird little sound, more like a sound of effort than a moan or gasp, and her body seized. Her chest pressed against his hand as her body arched out from his and one leg pressed in against his hand. He felt pleasant little throbs as she clenched around him and was quietly glad he hadn't changed their position.

He didn't stop his caress before the tremors ebbed and Arianna relaxed against him. Feeling warm and content, he brushed his neck over her hair and adjusted his arms to simply embrace her, luxuriating in the closeness.

She slipped her hands beneath one of his and lifted it so she could press her lips to the back of it.

"That was..." She said began, and paused. Her could hear the fond smirk in her voice when she said: "That was most adequate."

Maurus snorted. "Thank you," he said, the words both light and a little sarcastic. He idly stroked her belly. "I think it went as wonderfully as we could have hoped."

"Hmm, it is worth repeating," she allowed warmly.

Feeling lethargy creep into his limbs, he lay down, gently pulling her with him, unwilling to let go of the slender furnace in his arms. She shuffled against him and reluctantly he loosened his grip enough that she could slide off him and turn in his arms. He did smile when she slithered up so she could kiss his mouth though. The angle he had to bend his neck in to answer the kiss was a little uncomfortable, but he hardly cared as their mismatched mouths and tongues met.

Arianna's chuckle broke the kiss, though the vibration in her chest felt pleasant against his. Maurus opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. She put her chin in her hand, tracing the fingers of her other hand over his chest. "There was a time when I'd have found the idea of wanting the love of a non-elf utterly preposterous."

Maurus smiled softly, carelessly running his hands down Arianna's back. "I shouldn't find you as alluring as I do. I shouldn't find you alluring at all." His voice turned dry when he added: "I blame succubi for rattling my taste."

"I don't even have that excuse," Arianna replied, her tone teasingly resigned. "If I was a more foolish person, I could have blamed it on some extreme act of rebellion against my dear uncle."

She laid her chin against his chest, her arms embracing him. Her mouth opened, but she frowned and closed it again, before turning her head so she was looking up at him again. As she caught his gaze, the blaze of green in her eyes was oddly fragile, like a gust of wind could put out the light, and her voice was soft and quiet when she said: "But you don't love out of defiance."

Maurus heart swelled in his chest. It was odd, how such a small word and such an indirect admission, could have such an effect on him, but it had. "No," he said, unable to help a wide, fond grin and his voice was so full of affection that it almost trembled. "We love because we can't help it."

"That is very true," Arianna said, the simple words belying the emotion in them. She gave a little sigh and said wryly: "It certainly isn't the wisest course of action."

Maurus shrugged. "I thought we'd both come round to Mathias' way of thinking," he teased. A little more seriously he added: "The tauren speak of the wisdom of the mind and the wisdom of the heart. My heart says this is wise, whatever troubles we bring upon ourselves."

Arianna chuckled. "And there is a least one advantage my mind tells me we have in our current circumstances. We don't have to worry about pregnancy."

Her tone was light, but it seemed her words sparked something in her, because an edge crept into the words as she spoke. Maurus idly stroked a thumb over her back and said thoughtfully: "I don't know. We do fit together remarkably well. And Garona Halforcen got her name for a reason. Maybe the dwarves have some things right and their creators made their races compatible."

Arianna blew out a breath that tickled his chest. "You're terrible at pillow talk. That was not what I wanted to hear."

Maurus shrugged, quietly pleased that the discomfort had left her voice. "I think we'd have heard more of that kind of thing by now. At least from the trolls, they seem to think anything with two legs and a pulse is worth a shot and we haven't seen any tusked half-breeds."

Arianna snorted. "So it's not just me who gets that impression."

"You should see a troll wedding," Maurus said. He yawned before continuing. "It gets... Chaotic."

"I would never have guessed," Arianna said dryly.

"Have you ever heard what they say about enraged trolls?"

"No?" Arianna asked, her face crinkling in obvious confusion.

"When enraged and in heat, a female troll can mate over eighty times a night. Be ya prepared?" Maurus quoted, in his best attempt at the troll accent. Falling back into his normal speaking voice, he added: "I'm pretty sure that originated at troll weddings."

Arianna let out a little laugh before leaning in for a short kiss. When she pulled back, she laid her head back on his chest and said, tone playfully charitable: "Don't worry. I won't expect that from you."

"Thank the spirits," Maurus said, the word coming out in half a yawn. "I'd need at least some rest before I can take any more care of you."

Arianna gave a yawn, a small, delicate one compared to his gaping ones, shifted a little on his chest and closed her eyes. "I think I'll allow you your rest tonight."

"Your-" Maurus began, but another yawn interrupted him. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes. "You're such a charitable creature."

"I do put up with you," Arianna murmured.

"Not for nothing," Maurus rumbled, running one of his hand low over her. "But I won't complain."

One of her hands rose to caress his cheek before falling back down to hug him. A sigh escaped her and she muttered: "We should bathe."

"I think it can wait a little while," Maurus said lowly, his arms tightening a little around her.

Arianna moved a little in his arm, making a completely unconvincing show of struggling against his grip. "I guess it will have to wait, " she said, her voice more tiredly content.

Maurus smiled and resumed his lazy caress. "I wholeheartedly agree."

 


	19. Torn

Chasing Through Hell

Torn

The morning dawned grey and dismal and it was only very reluctantly that Maurus extricated himself from Arianna and the lazy warmth of the tent. An hour later he learned that the oppressive weather was an omen for the day.

"Calen's back," Mathias said, making Maurus turn from his half-folded tent and open his mouth to admonish his comrade for his late return. The words shriveled when he caught sight of the him though. Calen usually exuded confidence, his steps sure and his back straight. He always reminded Maurus of some of the older, grumpier tauren he'd known, those old enough to turn up their nose at the greenhorns, but not old enough to be called elders.

Now Calen looked truly and thoroughly shaken. His footfalls were no longer light and sure, but heavy and deliberate, as if he was rooting himself with every step and the set of his shoulders was as rigid as his movements. His face was drawn and an uncharacteristic reluctance appeared in his face when his eyes fell on Wiven and Arianna. The two had not missed Wiven's state either. Maurus could sense their uneasiness as they, without at word, moved to sit in front of Wiven's collapsed tent and gestured for Calen to join them.

Maurus ought to tell them to keep working, but he held his tongue and moved to join them. For a moment, all three elves looked like they might protest, but they relented at his steady look, making room for him to seat himself between Arianna and Wiven.

Calen didn't speak immediately. He sat in silence, looking into his hands as if searching for words there. The hectic feel of the camp breaking up, as well as the tension between the four, made Maurus want to prompt him, but he restrained the impulse. He had the distinct impression that it was an elven matter and he was already intruding enough without bringing his impatience into what was obviously something major.

Instead, it was Arianna who spoke first, not surprising, given the quiet dread in Wiven's eyes. With rare gentleness and apprehension, she asked: "Calen? What have you learned?"

"Shattrath is open to us. The Aldor have opened the city to anyone fighting the Legion," he began slowly, still looking into his hands. Maurus frowned. That should be cause for celebration, not gloom.

"And anyone fighting Illidan and his forces."

Maurus swallowed and glanced at Arianna. He saw the crack briefly appear in her calm, a flash of anguish that vanished as her expression hardened, mind working behind her steely eyes. Opposite her, Wiven's expression of dread deepened and his shoulders slumped.

"The draenei-" Arianna began, but she cut herself off when Calen suddenly raised his blazing eyes to her face.

"I care about the draenei reports as little as you do," Calen said, regaining a bit of his usual grim steadiness. "It's the word of kin I bring. They call themselves the Scryers and have pledged themselves to the same cause as the Aldor."

"What?" Arianna asked. Her brow was furrowed in confusion and worry, a saddening sight after the momentary hope the mention of kin had brought. Maurus put a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed as he saw Calen take a deep breath, his expression becoming desolate.

"They say the Prince has fallen to madness," he said, almost whispering the words. "That Illidan follows the Legion again and that the Prince pledged himself and our people to the Legion."

Arianna stiffened beneath Maurus' hand. Her denial was searing in it's heat, but a moment slow: "Liars and traitors. Do they think we'll fall for that?"

"Voren'thal leads them," Calen said, as if pronouncing a death sentence and Maurus thought he actually saw a glistening in his eyes. "He came to the camp last night, with the Sunstrike. Arcanist Xorith and Thalodien are among their number as well."

The blood drained from Arianna's and Wiven's faces. The names were unfamiliar to Maurus, but the reaction their mention garnered gave him a very good idea of who they were: The pathfinders, those that unerringly found the trail despite darkness and trickery.

"That's... No," Wiven said, almost pleading. He put a hand to his cheek, as if in support and the fingers of his other hand tightened on the wand that rested on his thigh. The azure stone at its tip darkened as his eyes grew brighter.

"I know," Calen said. His ashen, helpless words were half an apology, half an admission of his own incomprehension and pain.

The muscles beneath Maurus' hand tightened and Arianna's shoulder became like obsidian on a summer day. Ash, lying in front of her, had his hackles raised and a low growl was forming in his throat.

"That's it?" she asked finally. Her tone was venomous and haughty, unlike anything Maurus could remember hearing before. "A few words from the old guard and you lose faith?" She rose to her feet and glared at Calen and Wiven. "You're pathetic!"

That put some of the steel back in Calen's expression. "We saw the signs in the Citadel. They've been mounting since then."

"Nothing substantial. The Prince would never betray us!" Arianna retorted. "It could be the Scryers we've seen, working to weaken us. Or our _confirmed_ shapeshifting enemies!"

"They are our oldest veterans," Calen said, a dark note of warning in his tone. "They have fought for us since before we were born! And even if a demon wasn't detected by our best, no-one can impersonate a comrade you've fought beside for a century."

Arianna hesitated for a moment and Maurus saw the flicker of uncertainty again, before fury hardened her face. "It's a lie," she spat and spun on her heel.

"Arianna!" Maurus called, as she strode away from them. He might as well not have spoken. She didn't slow, stalking out toward the soggy, makeshift road that cut through the camp, so instead, he leaped to his hooves, took a couple of long strides and grabbed her arm. "Arianna, wait!"

She whirled on him, eyes burning and Ash let out a low growl. "Let go! I will not let these lies to go unchallenged."

The fury in her face and the pain lurking beneath made it feel like something was tearing in his chest, but Maurus held on. "Stop," he said, doing his best to keep his voice calm. "Think. This is not the time."

Arianna's expression darkened as she tried, unsuccessfully, to pull her arm from his grip. "This is _exactly_ the time," she hissed. "This must be stamped out now, before it grows out of control. How can they even form the thought?"

Maurus had a clear answer to that, but saw little reason to voice it. Instead, he said: "That is not your responsibility. How would you even convince them?"

"I am not the only faithful one," Arianna said. "We'll remind them why they should believe."

Again, Maurus held back his first retort, a declaration of how unlikely that would be. Calen had never struck him as someone easily swayed, nor someone disloyal and apart from the oddity of him going with Maurus' group instead of sticking to his own, he didn't seem to be that out of the ordinary for blood elves. "Muster is in an hour," he said instead. "You can't leave now."

Arianna heaved in a breath and he could feel the muscles tense in her arm as her hand curled into a fist. Every spine on Ash's back was raised and Maurus hadn't felt so threatened by the felhound since Ashenvale.

"Their need is greater-" Arianna began, but Maurus interrupted her.

"You can't leave," he insisted quietly. "You've declared for us. You could hardly even make it back and forth in that time."

She pulled against him again and a flash of regret appeared on her face before the anger reappeared. "My people-"

"Won't benefit," Maurus interrupted again, feeling his heart twinge at his own bluntness. Arianna's eyes narrowed, but he barreled on: "The word of a warlock will hardly lend weight in a matter of the Legion." He swallowed quickly, his stomach roiling, and added: "And you'll be a deserter. You know how the Horde deals with them."

Arianna stared at him. Her body was rigid like stone, her teeth grit and looking into her eyes was like looking into the center of a bonfire. As he stood there, Maurus became aware of how hard his heart was beating and how tightly he was grasping Arianna's arm, though he didn't dare loosen his grip.

"You can't help," he said quietly. It was almost a plea.

There was a quiver in Arianna's face, just for a moment. Then her expression went flat, something impenetrable falling into place behind her eyes. Without prompting, Maurus let go of her and without a glance at the road outside their circle of tents, she walked past him to her where her half-packed belongings were.

Only then did he become aware of the looks he was getting. Many of his comrades were already done with their packing, leaving them plenty of spare attention for what had just transpired. Shayla was giving him a look that might be even more disapproving than usual, and Drunnya looked uncomfortable. The rest showed primarily simple interest, but he could see a hard lines and suspicion here and there.

His head was full of frustration, anger, regret and not a little hurt and he did not at all feel composed. It was at a time like this that he understood why a lot of the factions of the Horde were so insular. It made cohesion and trust so much easier to maintain within the unit.

He closed his fingers into fists and breathed deeply, the air seeming to displace at least some of the roiling chaos in him.

"Gather round," he called, stepping back toward the central clearing in the camp. Any of his comrades who hadn't been looking at him now turned their attention to him.

"Gather round," he repeated, a little louder. "There's news and you'll hear them from me!"

* * *

They departed the main camp under a grey weight that matched the weather, a trio of battalions trudging out into the marsh. Widget, who was eager to test her new gunpowder mix, and Mathias, who was thrilled that they were moving towards Ven'Zarul, were the only ones who seemed unaffected by the news. The elves were practically silent for days and the distrust of Shayla and those of like mind had grown in response to the news and the desertion of a large contingent of dragonhawk riders. The deserters had not endeared the blood elves to anyone and while Maurus could count himself lucky that his soldiers remained relatively discreet and civil, plenty of the soldiers around them openly declared their dislike through hard stares and the odd insult. It was mostly the trolls, giving voice to a hatred of elves that Maurus had thought belonged more to some of the other tribes but seeing as much of the 27th was made up of trolls, he was honestly worried.

When Wiven rose to the taunts of some trolls, Maurus was pleasantly surprised that he didn't have to step in. Some of his orcs and trolls reacted before he ever had to, cowing the provoking trolls with hard stares, drawn weapons and, in Drunnya's and Shayla's case, palms full of lightning.

It was a good thing too that his comrades had stepped in, because his interference might not have ended at threats. Arianna's seething misery had torn at Maurus' insides from the day they marched and her withdrawal from him was doubly painful after they had become so close. In addition to those pains were the ever present anxiety, which their screen of scouts did little to soothe, the constant skirmishes and the sheer effort it was to march in the marsh.

The realization of how on edge he was pushed him past caution and he stopped letting Arianna avoid him entirely. To his immense relief, she responded favorably to his insistence and by the time they reached Zabra'jin, a nascent fortress that two vanguard troll regiments had begun work on, neither Maurus nor Arianna was quite as miserable as when they set out.

They were still very grateful for the break though. Arianna was still tense, lashing out at any negative mention of Prince Kael'thas and Maurus was drained by the week of skirmishes and animosity from his allies. The chaotic days spent there, in a place with well-established supply lines to fertile Nagrand, did a lot to raise the spirits of the battalion. In addition, the encounter with the strange, brown-skinned Mag'har, and the far strangers sporelings, did wonders, finally turning some attention away from the blood elves while Arianna's meeting with Croaker, Carver and Speaker seemed to focus her and relieve a little of her tension.

The following hard march strained both minds and bodies and Maurus didn't want to think about how low morale would have been without the respite. Even Mathias' mood began to sour, though that was mostly because they were no longer following Ven'Zarul's trail west, but instead going north along one of the most solid paths in the marsh.

The Legion had consolidated part of their forces in northern Zangarmarsh, keeping control of the roads into the Blade's Edge Mountains. Supported by at least two of their infernal forge camps in the foothills, they were in a good position to retake the marsh if the Horde and Alliance moved south in force without dislodging the demons along with the naga.

So while work continued on driving the naga out of their lakebed strongholds to the east, the 27th separated from three other battalions, sweeping like a great wing in an arc to outflank the demons' main position.

That had been the plan at least. It turned out quite different.

Maurus gave a wordless shout in response to his opponents guttural roar, smashing the crude axe away with a sweep of his own. The blow drew an almost childish grunt of dismay from the ogre, his belly rolling in a wave of fat and thick, blue skin. Blood already streamed from the ogre from a multitude of wounds, but there was simply so much mass, most of it extraneous, that none of the wounds were close to incapacitating.

"I hate ogres," Mathias hissed beside Maurus, dodging a club made from an uprooted mushroom. The words were barely audible over the almost solid wall of shouts and roars of the ogres, which almost drowned out the din of steel and spell. Mathias stabbed his sword forward, making the ogre draw back with a yowl of pain and trip over one of the many mushroom stumps that jutted from the ground.

A flurry of lightning, flame and shadow flew over Calen's head on Maurus' other side, sending one ogre to the ground in spasms and driving back a trio of others who had been approaching like a slow avalanche of fat and muscle over fleshy mounds of their dead fellows.

"Don't we all?" He snarled back at Mathias as the ogre he'd staggered came barreling back toward him. At that moment, he truly did. He'd met ogres in Dustwallow Marsh and truthfully never understood why they had always been so feared. He had attributed it to the small size of most participants of the Second War, but now he understood. The ogres fought with no skill, no finesse, no tactics and hardly wore any armor, but their brute strength made them dangerous and their toughness and stupidity made them capable fighting a battle of endurance that shifted ever more in their favor as their smaller opponents tired.

The Ango'rosh had done just that. Despite the fact that the scouts had spotted the ogres well before the battle began, both the attempt to avoid the ogres and the attempt to smash through them and continue on had failed, leaving the 27th stuck against the wall of flesh. The ogres delayed the 27th more than they hurt it, but several Legion forces were confirmed to be in the area, so that delay could be catastrophic, both for the other battalions and for the 27th,

Maurus turned his shoulder, catching a numbing orb of darkness on his pauldron and shouted a furious challenge at the two-headed brute skulking around behind the other ogres. The taunt had no effect. The ogre warlock simply roared a laugh, making his mantle of bone and hide shake, before pointing his bone staff at one of the front ogres. A stream of dark red hit the ogre and the ululating cry and the bloody spittle flying from the ogre's mouth made a chill run down Maurus' spine. The skin went taught around the ogre's muscles as it charged forward, even more heedless of danger than before, hefting its mushroom club in both hands.

"Widget!" He barked, managing to make his voice sound urgent rather than frightened. He thought he heard a shrill response and then there was a slap of sound against his side that made him glad Widget was on foot today.

Maurus thanked the spirits for Widget's aim as the frenzied ogre's right eye, and most of the area around it, exploded bloodily. It staggered forward a few more steps, still howling madly, before a bolt of lighting hit the gory ruin of its face and made it collapse only five steps before it would have reached the already struggling Drim and Crava.

A couple of dozen feet further left of Crava the fighting was particularly fierce, the very edges of the ogre and the Horde formations struggling to lap round their opponents' flank. A massive white bear Maurus recognized fought with a group of troll warriors, only holding the line because a barrage of glittering cold magic rained almost continuously over them, while the large arrows of the tauren Kiluq harried the ogre casters.

His focus narrowed again as he took a step forward, flanked by Mathias and Calen and feeling the gathering energy behind him as the casters reacted to the front rank's movements. He heard Drunnya chant, loud and clear and prepared himself for the rush of the bloodlust, silently imploring the spirits to help him keep his wits while under the spell.

Instead of feeling the hot singing of his blood, he felt the bottom fall out of his belly as a clear horn sounded several times from the south-west, out in the fog past the edge of the battle. He knew the signal. All of the simple signals had been drilled into every soldier by now.

Enemy forces were rapidly approaching.

"Drunnya! Shayla!" Maurus barked, lashing out with the knob of his axe, knocking a thick tooth from an ogre. Drunnya reacted almost immediately, taking up her chant again as Maurus shouted: "Shake them!"

He had hardly finished the sentence before the bloodlust descended on him, making his pulse throb in his veins, his muscles swell with power and burning the doubt and pain from him. The cry he and his comrades let out was wordless and savage and the ogres seemed surprised by the intensity, if not exactly cowed.

The flurry of rapid blows and magic that hit the ogres did drive them back however. A flash of golden light stunned one of them and though Calen's hammer blow failed to kill the it, Maurus rectified that. The blood-red arc of his axe swept from the belly of one ogre and into the neck of Calen's opponent, and blood fountained out with a force that made another ogre flinch.

Mathias was snarling, and somewhere behind the bloody haze, it occurred to Maurus that it reminded him of the moment in Hellfire Citadel, but the thought vanished as he turned his axe on another ogre.

Maurus' heart seemed to beat harder with every burst of blood. He sliced clean through a mushroom club and cut a chunk of flesh from one ogre while Mathias' blade cut bloody strips from another's belly. Calen spat something Maurus was sure was a curse as another of his blows seemed to bounce of a belly, then reversed the swing and made the ogre howl when he smashed his hammer into its kneecap. Lightning, flame and shadow pelted the ogre line, blackening skin by heat or gangrenous corruption and weakening both their bodies and their attacks. One ogre died soundlessly when Wiven's fire struck it directly in the face, charring flesh from bone and burning it's throat so it couldn't even scream.

A glance around him made Maurus realize that they'd driven a wedge into the ogres' formation, but that they had lost their momentum. The ogres were recovering from the shock and the shouts of the casters further back were goading the brutes into a frenzy. Further to his sides, he saw that Drim and Crava were now almost on the edge of the Horde line, the trolls, bear and tauren that had been there before having drawn back to better face the side. The ogres were unable to take advantage, because a group of troll raptor riders had appeared out of the mist in perfect time to threaten their flank, the sound of their arrival somehow going unnoticed by Maurus until now.

He forced his thoughts to work through the blood haze and shouted the order to draw back. It took a moment for his comrades to react, the idea of retreat alien to their blood-addled minds, but they managed to withdraw before the ogres could take advantage of Maurus' unit's overreach.

With the short retreat, the pounding frenzy lifted from Maurus, the aches and his growing dread seeping back into his mind and limbs. It was a momentary effort to adjust, his limbs growing heavier and clumsier, but with gritted teeth he sent his axe into an overeager ogre's belly, biting deep into flesh made putrid by magic and torn by Mathias' blade.

The ogre howled in pain, and Maurus saw stars when its wild swing caught the side of his helmet. Snorting out bloody spray through the slits in his helmet, he struck again and the ogre collapsed with a groan. Another ogre stepped forward, but before either it or Maurus could do anything, Ash came scrambling over the gutted ogre and launched himself at the new opponent. The ogre stumbled back again as Ash climbed up its body, gouging holes in its flabby belly as he moved.

Under the pressure from the raptor riders, the rest of the ogres were pushed closer together and Maurus' unit was suddenly freed from the worst of the melee.

It was just in time for Maurus to look left again and see the enemies appear out of the fog, confirming his worst fears. His stomach tied itself into a cold knot while his heart beat more heavily.

Blue- and orange-skinned forms, half-clad in sharp-edged armor came running forward, two-handed axes and swords clenched in their fists. Brown and orange imps darted around the felguards' feet, avoiding the heavy footfalls and the snapping jaws of crimson felhounds while cackling and juggling balls of flame. Finally, spread out along their smaller allies, were the pit fiends, their massive forms as imposing as ever, all of them hefting weapons that were almost the size of some of Maurus' comrades and definitely larger than Widget.

"Brace," Maurus shouted, and his comrades shifted slightly, so that they faced the demons more than they faced the ogres.

The demon's charge didn't go unopposed. Frost and lightning staggered the demons and roots rose from the damp earth to bind them, breaking not only the targets' stride but also those behind them. A barrage of steel, fire, light and shadow hit them next, sending some falling to the ground, dead, stunned or wracked by agony.

The demons responded with bolts of fire and darkness. Maurus turned his back half-way to the incoming fire and felt the heat flow into the metal of his armor and shield. He grit his teeth against the pain as the metal turned so hot that his fur curled and silently thanked Arianna for the work she'd begun on his armor. He grit his teeth harder as he smelled burned flesh and hair and heard the unmistakable pained screams of those who didn't have such ample protection. He just had to hope that the shroud of cold and the healers would be enough.

He turned back around, already swinging his axe and snorted in satisfaction when Arianna's magic struck with perfect timing. The felguard in front of him turned insubstantial just as it reached him, and his swing continued straight into the neck of the felguard beside it, killing it before it had a chance to realize its side was unprotected.

However, didn't do much but buy him time to react to the two felhounds snapping at his legs and the fiend that came leaping through the banished felguard, both cleavers raised above its head.

His heart in his throat, Maurus stepped aside, pushing into Mathias, and swung his axe as hard as he could at one cleaver. With a loud clang, he managed to redirect the fiend's blow and by a stroke of fortune the cleaver smashed down into the felhound that tried to use Maurus' sidestep to get at Arianna while the fiend's other cleaver sunk into the earth.

Calen thrust out a hand and the fiend roared in sudden agony as golden light burned out from its mouth, its eyes and from the rents that opened in its skin. As it did, Maurus stomped a hoof down on the other felhound, which was already writhing in the blackening grip of Arianna's magic, and raised his axe to attack the pit fiend.

Arianna added her magic to Calen's and the twin assault of holy and fel power wounded the demon so deeply that Maurus' attack was all that was needed to finish it off. It toppled, blackened and bloody, crushing a slow imp and despite the felguard that immediately stepped forward, Maurus had just enough time to see that their line was holding.

Then he saw the next wave approaching and heard piercing, shrieking roars that clawed their way into his ears and filled his belly with cold fear. More fiends were approaching, but more worrying were the hulking stone forms striding along between them, bathing their surroundings in flickering, fel green.

"Infernals," Maurus barked and with a curse, he dropped his axe and drew his mace and shield, inwardly praying he would find it again. Out the corner of his eye he noticed Mathias' posture change, making him look more focused.

He felt something like an intake of breath around him as his casters gathered power. Glancing to the side, he saw an expression of intense focus on Arianna's face and saw the fire gather around Shayla's fingers.

He blocked a blow from the felguard in front of him, trying and failing to break its grip on its weapon. Behind it, he saw burst of blinding light and he felt like cheering as he saw the golden hammer blow fade from an approaching fiend. It staggered forward, stunned by Calen's magic and then ropes of fel fire snaked around its chest. All unsteadiness vanished from the demon and it hurled itself backward, wings giving it extra momentum. It smashed into the infernals, slowing them almost to a halt and the impact of a fire elemental and an earth elemental to each infernal drove them back into the demons around them.

Two little black spheres sailed past Maurus and struck the infernals and moments later, scorching, black stone exploded out among the demons. Further along the Horde line, much the same happened as ice, elementals and Widget's bombs were thrown at the infernals. Howls and screams rose from the demons as the bulk of infernals and elementals staggered the charge, the infernals turning from advantage to hindrance in an instant.

The charge kept coming however and though they had blunted the impact, the demons still pressed hard into the Horde line, pushing them back against the unyielding ogres. As quickly as that, the Horde was on the defensive, and Maurus cursed as he found himself forced to spend all of his efforts on shielding his fellows from the blows of the stronger demons rather than lending his strength to the attacks. The same went for his comrades. Other than Mathias, who was fighting with a dangerous aggression, the others were fighting cautiously, only lashing out when they were absolutely sure they were covered by the soldiers around them. Calen in particular had almost completely given up attacking and focused more on holding the line and letting his holy light bolster those around him, only reaching out to stun the occasional demon. Only the casters behind him kept up the barrage of deadly magic and even they were struggling now, because the enemy felhounds were fully or partly devouring many of the spells.

More booming horns sounded and Maurus felt like something had taken hold of his innards and twisted. There were two signals in quick succession. The first was far off in the distance, barely audible over the cacophony, but he recognized it as the order for a general retreat. The second was closer, from the center of the 27th, and meant the same.

A tangible wave of fear rolled through the beleaguered formation and the demons picked up on it and pushed harder. Maurus bashed his shield into the chest of a felguard, throwing it bodily back, and shouted the order to withdraw. Mathias sent him a furious look, but this time, he thankfully did as asked immediately, despite his emotions.

Slowly, they drew back, each step a major effort, because the demons did not let up for a single instant and any weakness in the line could be fatal. That they were retreating over wet ground littered with the stumps of felled mushrooms made it even more of a challenge and several times, someone tripped. A little less than half of the time, that was instantly fatal. Maurus' chest burned with anger, fear and sorrow for Tokan and Rilli, and he roared in sympathy for Mo'raka's screaming anguish.

He felt the collapse before he saw it. He had the sense that he caught the edges of a wave of terror and as the pressure of bodies around him lightened, a terrifying feeling in itself, he looked left and felt cold slither up his spine. The Horde line was crumbling, a hundred Horde warriors eschewing all order and drawing back in blind panic or dropping their stance to simply stare vacantly ahead.

The enemies that pressed into the dent in the line weren't the same as the ones Maurus fought. Spread among and behind the regular front line demons were a huge number of succubi and almost as many robed fel orcs, warlocks by their garb and the tell-tale green of their fear-working. Towering over the others were several four-armed demonic females, wearing ornate armor and headdresses that seemed priest-like somehow and between them was an unfamiliar dreadlord, one with intact wings wings and horns completely unlike Ven'Zarul's.

Maurus wrenched his gaze away before the demons truly tore into the Horde. His heart was beating heavily and rapidly in his chest and his thoughts were racing just as fast, but the only clear thought in his jumbled mind was that things were looking bleaker by the moment. The formation was splintering, the trolls to his left pulling back from the demon's wedge.

"Lok'tar ogar," boomed out over the battlefield, but there was a desperate quality to the answering shouts and Maurus felt the fear begin to wear away his rage, not able to quash the thought that victory and death were both vastly preferable to being taken alive.

"Hold," Maurus screamed, as the pressure mounted. More and more, he was forced to stop attacks cold rather than redirect them and it was taking its toll on his body. The aches he'd incurred fighting against the ogres were nothing compared to the numbing, throbbing pain that the demon's heavy blades inflicted on him and the demons' magic sapped his strength and heated his armor to scorch him in places.

Around him, his comrades did him proud. Mathias had almost eschewed all sense of self-preservation, seemingly taking it upon himself to do the damage that Maurus couldn't, and he was taking almost as much of a beating as Maurus for it. Calen was a golden flame in the fog, the holy light sheathing his body and flowing out in waves, burning enemies and restoring allies. Further out, from Crava on his left to Tu'jan on his right, everyone was fighting with a berserk ferocity and the incantations behind him was a constant, wild chant, punctuated by the spells and the rapport of Widget's musket.

He could hear the stubborn resistance from all over the battlefield and the defiance was loudest from further to Maurus' left, where the shouts and spells of Jarasuwa and his fellows thundered and drew continuous screams from the demons.

Yet the demons had the advantage and another wave of terror rolled through him as he realized he could hear the sound of demons from somewhere behind him, distant but unmistakable. The Horde formation was splintering, leaving Horde groups as islands in a sea of demons and ogres.

"Close ranks. Hold!" he barked desperately. His limbs shook with effort, pain and the urge to run as he smashed his mace into the skull of a felhound and deflected a felguard's blade. Mathias opened the same felguard's belly with a rapid strike and two succubi behind it burned from the inside out, one lit by a golden light, the other by green-tinged flame. Fire and lighting took down more demons, but they kept coming.

Suddenly, Crava and several others cried out in pain and a hellish buzzing warned Maurus just before thousands of small bodies began pattering against his armor, seeking seams and openings to get at his flesh and eyes. They didn't get much of a chance though, because with a hiss from Ash the locusts vanished in a cloud of green sparks .

"He's here," Mathias growled, and as if Maurus needed any more confirmation, he saw the gutted felguard's wound close as it stabbed its blade into Calen's shoulder. He fell back, his golden aura winking out like a candle, though not before his hammer smashed into the face of the felguard.

Maurus took a step forward, nudging Calen behind him, eyes darting around for any sight of Ven'Zarul. An ethereal moan slithered forward and an overwhelming drowsiness suddenly flowed into Maurus, making his eyelids feel like they were made of lead and the ground look like the softest downy bed imaginable. He vaguely registered Calen, Crava and maybe several others fall limply to the ground beside him and the sight made him try to blink the sleep from his mind.

"Maurus!" Shouted a voice, striking through the din like a bell, edged with desperation. The voice struck a cord and with effort, Maurus was able to find the buried rage and push away the magic.

As his mind began to clear, he saw his unit falling apart. Crava and the others who'd guarded their left were on the ground, limp and the trolls who had been beside Crava were in disarray. Demons were taking full advantage of the opening, cleaving between the trolls and Maurus' unit, isolating Maurus and his comrades even more.

Before he could get his bearings though, a hard weight crashed into his side with enough force that he felt the plate deform and bruise his side. He clipped Mathias with his arm as he stumbled back and knocked over several casters as he tried and failed to regain his balance. He barely avoided crushing them as he fell, twisting around and catching himself before he would have landed on Arianna.

For an instant, his wide, surprised eyes stared into hers and this close she was unable to conceal fear that matched his. Then his side exploded with pain as a hoof as unyielding as steel dented his armor again and knocked him over onto his back.

With stars dancing in his vision, he saw Mathias get flung aside and his heart was in his throat when a felhound leaped at the prone Arianna. Wiven, Widget and several others screamed in panic or defiance as the demons crashed into the ruins of his unit, forcing those still standing violently to the ground.

A steel boot stomped down on his wrist and Maurus gasped as something cracked and his mace tumbled from limp fingers. Another kick knocked his shield arm away from his chest and then it too was pinned to the ground by a felguard. He pushed against his captors, gritting his teeth against the pain, but he stopped when an ink-black hoof, more than twice the size of his own, stomped down onto his chest, denting his breastplate and driving the breath from his lungs.

Maurus looked up from the hoof and his heart beat so hard he was afraid it would burst, each beat making his bruises throb with fresh pain. His nightmares did not do the dreadlord justice. Even maimed, lopsided by the lack of a wing and a horn, the dreadlord radiated power and menace, maybe more so, because some of his self-assured arrogance had vanished and something more primal had taken its place. His jet-black armor was spattered with gore and blood dripped from his long claws and the tip of his still intact wing as he leaned down over Maurus, .

It was Ven'zarul's face that frightened him the most. His eyes were pits of bright, fel flame and his gaze felt like a physically scorching pressure against Maurus' eyes. His needlepoint teeth were revealed in a terrible mockery of a smile, one that was a single instant away from turning into a snarl.

He reached down and deftly unstrapped Maurus' helmet before throwing it away with a negligent flick of his hand. Maurus bit at his fingers, but Ven'Zarul simply wrapped fingers like a steel vise around his muzzle, holding it shut with little effort, his claws opening stinging cuts in Maurus' flesh.

The was a raspy growl and a sharp impact and Maurus' eyes darted left and right. Past the elaborately armored felguard standing on his arm, he saw Mathias reeling from the blow of a felguard before another closed its large hands around his wrists. Beside Mathias, Drim and Tu'jan were facedown in the bloody mud beside a dozen others.

On Maurus' other side, Arianna, Wiven, Ka'ror and several other casters were also pressed down into the dirt by felguards and felhounds, with imps capering around them. Arianna was almost within arm's reach. She'd lost her helmet and despite the felhound jaws around her throat, her face blazed with fear and fury, rather than despair. That expression was on most of the faces he could see, even on Widget's half-buried face, and Maurus felt a swell of fierce pride briefly eat away at the crawling fear in his chest.

His eyes snapped back to Ven'Zarul when the dreadlord increased the pressure on his chest. Hate and a barely restrained rage dripped from every syllable when he quietly said: "You took something of mine. You mutilated me."

That his words were so easily audible abruptly made Maurus aware that the sounds of battle had shrunk to a fraction of their former volume. Instead, there were shouts and pained screams, the mutter of demons and ogres and the clink of armor and chains and Maurus felt like all warmth was bleeding out from him into the mud.

Ven'Zarul's eyes wandered lazily away from Maurus and his hand forced Maurus down so he was looking at Arianna. "And she is _wearing_ it."

He spoke an order in Eredun and the felhunter moved its body off Arianna's while keeping its jaws around her throat. Ven'Zarul shifted his stance as well, leaning on the hoof he'd planted between Maurus and Arianna. The lessening in pressure was a relief but Maurus hardly felt it, far more occupied with the dread twisting his stomach.

Arianna's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, but before she could speak, Ven'Zarul said addressed the entire group: "Speak a single syllable of a spell and we begin removing tongues."

Arianna's lips thinned to a hard line and her eyes blazed with hate. Maurus struggled again, but Ven'Zarul's grip tightened on his muzzle, drawing more blood and he stilled again.

"I have such plans for you insolent vermin," Ven'Zarul hissed. "But there is a time and place and we can't have people tracking you."

Bile and hot, white fury clawed its way up Maurus' throat when the dreadlord slipped his blood-stained claws beneath Arianna's robe and dragged his hand up, slicing the garment apart. Arianna visible forced herself not to squirm as the claws bared and cut her, but Maurus could see the disgust and humiliation in her eyes, behind the rage, and his own fury grew in response.

With a hard tug, Ven'Zarul pulled the ruined robe off Arianna, rolling her onto her side. As Arianna rolled back round, covering her barely clothed body but giving Ven'Zarul a look that should have burned him to ash. Ignoring her entirely, Ven'Zarul tossed the robe to an imp, speaking another string of Eredun. While the imp eagerly summoned fire that slowly blackened the robe, two other imps scurried forward over to Arianna. Maurus seethed as they tugged the bracelets and necklace off Arianna and ran off snickering.

Maurus gasped with pain again when Ven'Zarul put his weight back on him, but the terror had changed. He could still feel it, but it had transformed mostly into pure incandescent rage and he pushed against his captors. He didn't care about the pain or the fact that he couldn't possibly move Ven'Zarul with the little purchase he had. Those concerns seemed immaterial and as he tensed, he abruptly felt extremely aware of the soft earth beneath his body and the air around him, both pressing oddly against him.

The odd thought was thrown from his mind when Ven'Zarul wrenched his head around so he was looking over at the now unconscious and badly battered Mathias and his other comrades. There was a chilling clink of metal as some of imps came scampering forward, carrying armfuls of chains and worry battled with rage at the sight of several of his comrades with arms already chained behind their backs.

"A little indulgence won't do any harm though," Ven'Zarul said darkly. "A little taste, and practice for that troll."

Maurus heard a wordless gasp from Arianna just before fingers closed around his left horn and everything fled from his mind when Ven'Zarul pulled. Pain radiated out from where his horn connected to his skull, quickly becoming something unlike anything he'd felt before. His vision blurred with tears and lights, his head and stomach swam with nausea and a raw scream emerged from his throat. He felt a terrible creaking, cracking and pulling and then there was a jolt of blinding, silver pain that made it impossible to breathe as the horn broke from his head, tearing a swathe skin and fur with it.

His head throbbed with burning, crushing pain, he couldn't see and his breathing came in desperate gasps. What little he could feel of his body was the heaving nausea and whirling dizziness the pain brought. He hardly felt Ven'Zarul let go or step away, hardly felt the ground beneath him. The pain pounded its way out from the wet wound in his head and his consciousness was steadily slipping away, dripping out of his head along with his blood.

Only dimly did he notice someone pushing him to his unsteady hooves, encasing his hands in cold metal and shoving him into a dazed walk.


	20. Chapter 20

Chasing Through Hell

In the Dark

Maurus walked with stumbling, uncertain steps, constantly on the verge of losing his balance because the pulses of agony hit like physical blows to the skull. His body ached all over, though that was a distant thing to the pounding pain in his head, and so was the light burn of exertion from dragging his hooves through the mud. His senses seemed dulled and he only dimly noticed the shuffling mass of bodies around him, the noises and sight of the many-colored crowd and the blue marsh seeming to come through a thick fog.

Despite the pain that made him want to simply sit down and weep and the disconnection from the world around him, he kept walking, keeping pace with the throng around him and following the vague, warm pull in his mind.

As he walked, the pulsing pain began to abate, giving way to a tight, tense pain instead, but his mind refused to clear and his surroundings remained distant and unimportant compared to the soft, warmth that suffused his head and gently beckoned him forward. The moans and whimpers, harsh breathing and angry growls entered his ears without provoking a response and the sight of familiar people straining to keep pace only got a passing spark of attention. The small, shivering form that tried to catch his eyes set a little more into motion in his head, but that only amounted to a few aborted thoughts. HIs attention kept wandering, distracted by all the other green eyes around him.

He trudged on through the mist of Zangarmarsh and the clouds in his mind, fumbling as much for his own thoughts as for proper footing. Only when a vast lake came into view did something change. As he approached the wide barges at the shore, his mind slipped from the seductive embrace and he regained enough clarity to take in his surroundings properly.

Zangarmarsh' wet smells were almost completely drowned out by the stench of waste, sweat and blood around him. Horde prisoners were being driven into pens on the barges among a clanking of metal, a sloshing of water and hundreds of pained groans.

Like all the Horde prisoners, Maurus was chained to his companions. One length of chain connected him to Mathias, who had lost his helmet and been beaten so badly that his lower jaw was hanging crookedly. The burst of concern and rage that that ignited bloomed into an inferno when looked at at his other comrades. Arianna walked along on the other end of the chain, still mostly naked and Maurus realized with horror that they had been marching for at least a good day. She was curled in on herself and shivering violently and the bloody line Ven'Zarul's claws had drawn up her front was crusted with blood. Calen's left arm was hanging limply and his face was contorted in pain and Widget and Wiven looked dead on their feet. The rest of his soldiers looked only marginally better, so many of them had evidently put up a fight.

His instant urge to do violence was quelled though, both by the knowledge that he was at a massive disadvantage cuffed and chained and by the leaden weight of his limbs. He stepped onto a barge almost without thinking and realized that the unresponsiveness in his limbs had crawled in just as the fog had lifted from his head. Looking around, he understood and his lips parted in a snarl. The barges were manned by lumpy, squat creatures, most of them swathed in hooded robes and unnatural shadows that made their outlines fuzzy. Under their hoods, their eyes were small, bright and beady and their long teeth were revealed in permanent grimaces as they continually muttered enchantments. Most of the demons remained on the shore, felguards, felhounds and succubi handing the prisoner over to the ugly creatures and as they did, the mind fog of the succubi was replaced by a subtle physical hold that made aggressive movements feel almost impossible.

The pens on the barges were packed as full as possible before they glided out into the lake and it was a slow, cold and tiring crossing. He pushed back against the press of bodies keep a space between himself and the barge's railing for Arianna, Wiven and Widget and the weight of bodies discomforted him almost as much as being underground. The dark, deep water all around him did nothing to help the anxiety, particularly once he noticed the naga that swarmed in the water beneath the surface, guarding and propelling the vessel. He wanted to comfort Arianna, by word or by action, or speak to any of his comrades, but he remembered Ven'Zarul's threat. The dreadlord was on the barge and Maurus doubted he or the other remaining demons would be very particular about who had to speak before they began tearing out tongues.

So instead, he occupied himself with taking stock of his comrades and tried to think of where they were being taken and how they could get out of their situation. Mostly, he came up with terrifying suspicions and useless plans and the only positive thoughts he had were that there was more defiance than despair around him and that Arianna's warlock associates could track both them and Ven'Zarul.

The other shore eventually came into view and Maurus felt the slightest bit of relief. It was replaced by surprise when what looked like a huge, irregular hill appeared out of the mists, something that seemed out of place in Zangarmarsh's landscape of flat mud and narrow mushrooms stalks. As they came closer, he realized it was a pile of many of the gigantic mushrooms, heaped like the largest jumble of kindling he'd ever seen and the undergrowth that had grown over the mushrooms only strengthened that impression.

Equally out of place was the stone he saw in the shore. All of the land he could see was mud-slick rock, the first rocky ground he had seen since descending into the marsh. The rock was as smooth as the main roads in Orgrimmar and the plane of it sat at an angle to the water, rising slightly above the surface of the lake towards Maurus' left.

As they disembarked, he could make out the indistinct shapes of many more of their captors, squat figures placed on and around the hill and as they were herded forward, he saw that the hill was hollow. More of their captors, including a sizable number of demons, were visible inside the hollow that the enormous trunks created, standing guard or moving around with bustling energy. Ven'Zarul left the crowd of captives and moved toward the numerous demons inside the hollow and as Maurus' eyes followed him, he caught sight of the black rock that rose at a right angle to the tilted rocky floor.

He suddenly found it hard to breathe, both from shock and the breath of stinging fel that hit his face as looked up the twin black pillars to the slab that topped them, almost hidden beneath the mushrooms. He felt a pull, heard the harsh barks of his captors and followed the shuffling Horde without much thought. A glance and a tension in the air told him that he wasn't the only one who had noticed.

Hidden in a hill of mushrooms and swamp growth, with one corner sunken almost beneath the marsh water, was an obsidian portal. It was smaller and empty of the hypnotic swirl of the Dark Portal, but it still loomed like a huge, black maw and almost imperceptible flickers of emerald told him that it was not truly dead.

He hadn't thought he could have gotten more scared, but as tunnels half stone and half greenery closed over his head, he remembered what some orcs whispered about the start of the First War and shivered. Passing between worlds demanded a toll that could only be paid with death and the Dark Portal had consumed hundreds or thousands of draenei and orc lives.

Only a few hundred steps down the tunnel, Maurus found reason to fight the grip of the shadow priests. Widget called his name, her voice shrill and afraid and when he looked back, he saw, Drunnya and Shayla be pushed down a different corridor. He tensed against the grip around him and stopped. Before he could figure out what to do with his suddenly free body though, there was a harsh grunt and something rapped against the side of his head. He knew the touch had been almost light, but his vision filled with blurry light as the explosion of pain drove him to his knees. He barely had the strength to keep his eyes open to see his unit being herded away from him, everyone but those chained to him and Calen, Wiven and Drim.

Widget had never looked so small and fragile as that moment, as she was almost carried away into the darkness by those chained to her. Maurus felt a nausea that had little to do with the pain in his head and spat at the felguard that pushed him to his hooves.

Its face contorted in fury and it lifted its axe for another blow but stopped, with obvious reluctance, when the priest in front of Maurus said something. Instead of directing the blow at Maurus' head, it slammed the knob of the axe into Maurus' back and pushed him forward.

His head pounded and his chest was cold and empty as continued down the corridor. They stopped at and intersection and the demons went around, yanking their weapons from their belts before they another corridor lead them to a dimly lit cell

When the cell door clanged shut behind them and the pressure of bodies against Maurus' back eased, he turned and inspected the room. It was a small and cramped for the three or four dozen prisoners, who, as Maurus had vaguely noticed, were almost all blood elves. There was a single troll and a handful of orcs and undead and all of them were chained to at least one blood elf. Outside the cell was an alcove where the jailors sat, a little group of felguards, felhunters, succubi and shadow priests.

Maurus tensed when he heard hushed exchanges in the cell, remembering the threats, but their captors apparently hadn't heard or didn't care because they didn't react. After a few moments, Maurus dared speak.

"Arianna?" He asked, raising a hand toward her and to his surprise, she pulled back. Her eyes darted to the right, toward the prison bars before coming back to him, imploring and regretful before they hardened. The moment of regret took some of the sting, but it still felt like a stab when she pulled as far away as the chain allowed and spat: "Don't touch me."

Immediately, the closest blood elves he didn't know fell absolutely quiet and turned burning eyes to him. He ignored them, swallowed the lump in his throat and closed his hands into fists to fight the urge to take her into his arms regardless, reminding himself that the body heat in the small room was better for warming her than his armored body.

He felt a little better when a raven-haired elf with more bloody scar than face stepped up and draped Arianna in a mud- and blood-stained cloak, even if her thanks made him feel a twinge of annoyance.

"Wiven, Calen, Mathias? Drim?" He asked in a low murmur, turning to them.

"Improving," Calen said shortly. His lips kept moving silently after the short reply and in the dark, Maurus could just make out an almost imperceptible gold sheen around his arm.

Mathias rolled his arm stiffly and gave a rattling groan that almost sounded like "can't speak". His expression was murderous, though worry shone in his eyes.

"Breathing's hard," Drim said and Maurus felt a roll of worry, suddenly noticing Drim's strained breathing.

Wiven didn't speak. His eyes were wide and he held himself unnaturally still, breathing worryingly deep of the fel-heavy air.

"Help Drim, Calen?" Maurus asked quietly.

Calen grimaced, before tugging on the chain and dragging Drim and Wiven with him. They sat down along the wall opposite the bars, putting a solid wall of blood elves between them and the guards' eyes. Even then, Calen made it look like Drim was simply leaning against him and adopted an annoyed expression.

A pull on the chain made him look at Arianna and though she still didn't look at him, her dour expression and her second, deliberate tug made him slowly follow her as she pulled toward the bars. As he did, he whispered at those he passed, asking for priests for Mathias. He got mostly glares for his trouble, but when he was almost to the bars, a trio of reedy, red-haired elves deliberately moved to the back of the cell.

He turned back to Arianna when she addressed the guards in Eredun. He understood nothing, though he caught her name and he frowned at her odd tone. She sounded almost commanding, but there was a wavering undertone to her voice that could be pain or fear.

The closest demons and one of the shadow priests looked at her with maybe a glimmer of interest, but the strongest reaction came inside the cell. An angry mutter rose from the blood elves and Maruus glanced back into the cells to find a fair number of them staring at Arianna with hate in their eyes while whisper sweeped the room. The black-haired elf that had given Arianna a cloak looked regretful.

Arianna paid them no mind and repeated her words. One of the succubi outside tilted her head, her lips spreading in a smile before she answered in a languid, satisfied tone.

The tension thickened. Maurus turned his body so he partly shielded Arianna from the other elves and Mathias shifted beside him, eyes narrowing. Then Maurus reconsidered and just yanked on the chain, causing Arianna to stumble away from the steel bars.

"Come here, elf," Maurus made himself growl. Feeling his stomach turning, he grabbed Arianna's arm without any gentleness and dragged her toward back of the cell. His rough action seemed to confuse the elves, defusing some of the tension and redirecting some of their ire back to him. No-one tried to stop him though as he made his way to the red-haired elves and one of them discreetly began healing Mathias when he gestured at him.

Maurus sat and turned a glare on Arianna in order to inspect her condition. Her shivers had thankfully stopped and his insides relaxed a little when she met his eyes for a short moment before turning a haughty look on the elves around her.

He held back a sigh and leaned back against the wall. Both his limbs and eyelids felt like they were weighed down with lead, but the lingering pulses of pain and his worry made sleep unlikely. Instead, he kept his tired eyes open as the time crawled by, trying to think as he observed the room. There wasn't really room for it, but the elves kept themselves just slightly back from Maurus and his companions. They mostly made a show of ignoring them, but Maurus still kept catching glances and glares and he noticed that several of the looks Arianna got were thoughtful rather than hostile.

* * *

At some point he must have nodded off, because the cell was filled with the sound of sleeping people rather than furtive whispers when he came to. For a moment, blind panic made him go rigid and it only faded slightly when he realized where he was. He had clear view of the cell door over the sleeping elves and both the squalid room and the demons outside was a forceful reminder of their plight.

Still somewhat befuddled, he quickly looked around for his companions. Each one he located calmed him a little, but as he did, he also remembered all the ones he was missing and dreaded what had become of them.

Feeling cold despite the warmth of the room, he turned his gaze back to Arianna. She sat by his side, sleeping with her head propped up against the wall, the chain lying slack between his manacles and hers. He reached out a hand and gently touched her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her seeping down his fingers even through the chain that covered them.

She let out a low murmur and leaned into the touch. Her eyes opened lazily and the edges of her mouth lifted. Then the sleepy expression vanished, her eyes gaining a clear, hard look as she realized where they were. "Don't touch me," she repeated, though her vehemence was a little more subdued than last time.

Her words and actions still stung. The hurt was nothing however, compared to the ache he felt at the anguish that briefly came over her face when she glanced left. Maurus followed her gaze and realized that he not just stirred randomly. Their bored-looking captors stood as if waiting for someone and just then, nine elves entered the room.

They were a world apart from the elves on the floor. Their hair, various shades of blonde, was clean and styled in practical tails and buns. Their crimson robes and armor weren't spotless, but far cleaner than those of the elves inside the cell, and of more elaborate design, edged with golden designs of birds and flames. Their faces were unblemished but their eyes seemed a little sunken and blazed more brightly than those of any blood elf Maurus had seen so far. Their eyes also seemed cold, like shining peridot, barely showing any emotion as they swept over the prisoners that were rapidly waking and waking each other.

Arianna took an unsteady breath beside him and when he glanced at her, her saw another flicker of pain on her face. It was quickly replaced by an aggrieved, haughty expression, but it took visible effort.

"I'll get us out," she said. She barely moved her mouth and the words were so low and unsteady that it took a moment for him to even understand what she'd said, but the relief he felt was immense. In a much louder, more confident voice, she called across the room. Maurus only understood a few of the Thalassian words, among them 'friend' and 'Prince Kael'thas.'

An agitated couple of murmurs sounded from the blood elf prisoners and Maurus heard the rattle as both Wiven and Calen turned shocked gazes on Arianna. Outside the cell, several of the elves frowned. One of them, a tall one with a tail of hair that accentuated her willowy frame, barked something in Eredun to the jailguards.

The words weren't appreciated by the demons. The largest felguard rose to his full height, giving the elf a dark glower, but when the elf stood firm, it reluctantly nodded. The elf that had spoken turned to the cell and said something that could only be a threat, judging by the tone, and the cell fell into sullen silence.

The apparent speaker for the traitor elves said something in the distinct tone of an order and Maurus caught the word 'stand'. Only a few, Arianna included, rose to their feet, and the rest gave her no more response than glares. The speaker's lips twisted and green fire sprang to life in her hand. She repeated herself, adding a threat to the end and only then did the prisoners get to their feet, though only with deliberate, contrary slowness.

Maurus was reminded of a boar or wolf auction as the prisoners reluctantly stepped forward to the bars at the command of the elves outside. Four of the couple of dozen elves were freed of their chains and joined the elves outside. One of them, a warlock by the look of him, embraced the smallest of the elves outside, evidently thrilled to see the other warlock.

Finally, Arianna was called forward. Maurus made a show of reluctantly getting to his feet, dragging Mathias with him, scowling at the elves outside. He deliberately gave the freed elves his darkest glares and turned the same glare on Arianna when she spoke with the traitor elves.

A flicker of satisfaction appeared in the eyes of several of the elves outside at something Arianna said, something that got a short-lived angry response from inside the cell. Maurus resisted the urge to once again shield Arianna from her fellows and instead gave her his most hostile look when the elves turned to the jailors.

A squat, ugly priest stepped forward along with a succubus, the same pair that had stepped forward each time an elf was freed. A low chant oozed like oil between the priest's needle-like teeth as darkness gathered in his palms just like the other times and the succubus turned a very intense gaze on Maurus. Maurus couldn't stop himself from tensing when he felt the tendrils of dark magic creep into his limbs, but now he was aware and ready to dig up rage to resist and there was plenty to take from. Taking care not to be obvious about it, he tensed several muscles experimentally, clenched a fist and grit his teeth. Though the grit teeth made his head pound again and caused a faint wave of dizziness, he found to his satisfaction that he didn't feel constricted or confused this time.

The priest didn't seem to notice anything amiss and tossed his head toward the cell door. The succubus quickly opened it and freed Arianna, giving her an inviting smile as she did.

Feeling a rolling worry mix with his satisfaction, Maurus obediently stepped back from the cell door when the priest's eyes seemed to indicate that wish and he felt the magic withdraw when he was half-way back to the wall.

Only then did he dare turn and look and he didn't have to fake the expression of discomfort he showed his captors, the priest in particular. More worry twisted nauseatingly in his belly as he watched Arianna walk off along with the four others, surrounded by the almost immaculate traitor blood elves.

There was a clinking tug on his arm that made him look down at Mathias. The yellow light in his eyes were more prominent in the dim room and his gaze bored into Maurus' eyes. His expression was dour but when he shrugged a shoulder and flicked his eyes toward the steel bars, Maurus saw a flicker of uncommon emotions in him: Fear, doubt and worry.

His own emotions rose in response, flaring into a sullen anger. It was half because of the lack of trust Mathias displayed toward Arianna and half because it resonated with the niggling, guilty doubt that wouldn't leave his own head.

He forced away that anger, restraining the urge to grimace or grind his teeth. Instead, he gave Mathias the most confident look he could manage and briefly smiled with the side of his mouth that was turned away from the guards. Mathias gave the barest nod, rolling his shoulder and Maurus felt another drop of satisfaction disturb the deep well of dread in his belly.

Wiven and Calen were not so easily convinced though and for the first time, he saw Calen fully live up to the image of a paladin. He practically radiated what Maurus could only call righteous fury, even if it was probably undeserved. Wiven, on the other hand, looked like he was simply despairing. His face was white and his eyes shone with both tears and the blaze of the magic he was drawing in with each desperate breath. His fingers, resting in his laps, wove phantom sigils.

Calen reacted a moment before Maurus, pulling hard on Wiven's chain and giving him a stony glare. It stopped Wiven from whatever he had been about to do, but it also made Wiven curl in on himself and he stayed that way.

Imprisonment turned out to be different than he had expected. Their jailors didn't have to work to make the stay miserable, and except for striking anyone that spoke or came to close to the bars, they didn't. The imprisonment itself was enough. Maurus guessed that it was only thanks to what meager magic healers could do that no-one got sick when the hours dragged on and on and eventually turned into days. Despite Calen's covert help, his head kept aching and disorienting him and the fetid stench and the cramped room made him feel like he was slowly choking.

Worse than that was the oppressing silence, which left plenty of time to brood. The humiliation made his blood boil and the worry for Arianna, his comrades and himself filled his belly with watery dread and made his thoughts go down paths as dark as the tunnel outside the bars.

He did everything he could to fill the time, studying the other captives, trying to think of a way out and establish just a little rapport with the elves. He had little success, partly because he was only just now learning the sign language that some of the captive elves used and showed the others. Maurus' comrades and the non-elves were as attentive as him, also apparently trying to figure it out and compare it to what signs they already knew.

Finally the bleak monotony was broken. It was an early morning, if Maurus hadn't lost track of time, when Arianna returned. She looked far different than when she had left the cell. Her face was clean, her hair was immaculate and the ragged cloak she'd borrowed had been replaced with ornate robes. A slim dagger hung at her waist and a thin gold chain shone around her neck, though it paled compared to the blaze of her eyes.

Beside her walked her almost naked, demonic twin, radiating sensuality and erotic promise with every sway of her hip and on either side of the pair walked a blood elf, clad in robes like Arianna's, but also carrying a golden staff topped with a jagged piece of emerald.

Two felhounds, who Maurus guessed to be the blood elves' bound demons, walked in front of their masters into the room and immediately faced the cells.

The guards in the room rose with the causal air of someone who had been informed in advance, except for the felhound already inside the room, which kept facing the cell and only acknowleded the new arrivals by sniffing the air. There was a glint of curiosity in the eyes of the three succubi in the room though and one of the two shadow priests, who seemingly spoke for the group, followed up its greeting with something that sounded like a question, so they weren't fully informed.

The elf on Arianna's left answered and again, a number of the caged elves turned angry, questioning eyes toward him. Outside the room, whatever had been said also intrigued several of the demons. The succubi leered at Maurus, revealing fangs in smiles that contained nothing but sadistic glee. The four felguards in the room also suddenly became interested, following the succubi's gaze to Maurus, their expressions hungry behind their helmets.

All that Maurus noticed in passing, because most of his attention was focused on Arianna. As the elf beside her spoke, her posture, which had been as self-assured as the others when she entered, cracked a little, and she curled in on herself just slightly before looking at Maurus.

The worry her demeanor provoked and the hateful gaze in particular, made it feel like she had wrenched his guts from his belly. Telling himself that it was an act did little to ease the feeling, so the sickened scowl on his face wasn't far from the truth.

"Tauren," one of the felguards said in a guttural voice that obviously wasn't particularly used to Orcish. The cruel anticipation was unmistakable though. "Come here."

Hating the lie and feeling his heartbeat quicken, Maurus returned Arianna's gaze with a grim glare and obeyed. The elves readily got out of his way of his heavy hooves and he felt the weight of their gazes lighten as they seemed to remember that whatever ugliness they suspected, the most dangerous enemy was outside the cell.

He stopped in front of the cell door and once again, a shadow priest and a succubus stepped forward. A resonating incantation oozed from between the priest's needle-like teeth and Maurus felt the slithering magic come upon him and the befuddling caress of the succubus' magic. But once more, Maurus steeled himself, gathering his simmering rage around the pulsing pain in his head, and the magic failed to catch a hold. More aware this time too, Maurus realized that he was not the only target of the working but that the magic flowed in a wave into the cell to pacify all the people closest to the door.

Still muttering quietly, his eyes cloudy and his hands filled with shadow, the priest nodded at the succubus. She slinked forward, flanked by two felguards, and unlocked the door with a careless demeanor that brought to mind someone going to the bed of a lover. She beckoned with her fingers and, doing his best to seem docile and captive, Maurus took a step forward.

As he did, he glanced to his right, toward Arianna and his heart beat even harder in his chest. Her eyes caught his with an intensity he rarely saw and her right hand moved down to her belt. Mirlia sidled up to the blood elf on Arianna's left, casually putting one hand on his arm and sliding the other up his chest. His posture immediately slackened as he leaned one long ear toward Mirlia and his fellhunter suddenly drooped drowsily.

Arianna was as quick and violent as Mirlia was gentle. She snatched the dagger from her belt and drove it up beneath the other elf's jaw, severing the artery and plunging the slim blade into her brain. As the elf collapsed and her felhound dissolved into flakes of Ash, Arianna stepped back to avoid the spray of blood, her hands whirling and her lips forming frenzied syllables. The third felhunter in the room whirled toward Arianna but didn't get any further before it faded to a sickly green translucence. A heartbeat later, the shadow priest furthest from Maurus collapsed in thrashing, teeth-gnashing agony.

The rest of the guards, save the priest facing the cell, turned fully toward Arianna before she finished her third spell, which meant they didn't see the cords of blazing white flame that bound the largest felguard in the room. It stepped away from the bell in the corner and swung its massive sword, slicing off the head of a succubus and cutting deep into the one next to her, drawing a wheezy exhale from her.

With rage, pride and worry surging in a bewildering maelstrom inside him, Maurus charged forward. Mathias yelped and was dragged forward for a moment before he recovered from the spell and matched Maurus' pace. The succubus had turned and dropped her seductive aura and was advancing toward Arianna along with the felguards that wasn't fighting Arianna's bound demon, so the shadow priest was the only one facing Maurus and Mathias. His expression just had time to change from worried to panicked before they reached him. As if they had practiced it, they kept the chain level at the height of the priest's throat and pulled with both strength and momentum. It drew a croak and a nasty breaking sound from the priest before he simply fell over in a heap.

Maurus didn't stop. In the moment it had taken to kill the priest, the felguards and the succubus had reached Arianna and Mirlia and she didn't look like she was about to dodge. Her face was strained and the hand she was holding up to the bound felguard trembled.

He leapt forward, a rage that was half-terror swirling through his limbs. He had no idea how he should stop three different demons with no weapons and even if he did, the last succubus was about to strike Mirlia and bring the blood elf back into the fight. He saw the blades and claws rise, surreally slowly, inwardly praying to every spirit he knew as he strained with every muscle in his body and every ounce of will.

And something answered. He felt something unseen, something sullied and stained, but still proud and strong, reach out and touch him. It flowed through him like a cleansing stream of lightning, connecting him to the unseen sky far above and, as one of his hooves came down on the rock, to the earth. His other hoof stomped down onto the floor with all his weight and strength and that new energy behind it and the cave rang with a crack of thunder. The stone splintered and a wave of force and obsidian splinters flew up at the demons, sending them staggering away from him, their attacks hitting nothing but air.

As quickly as it had come, the connection he'd felt vanished, draining away and leaving an acute tiredness in its place. Maurus didn't stop to lament the loss, but grit his teeth and forced his muscles to propel him forward to kick the closest felguard in the back of the leg. There was a satisfying crack and with a pained howl, the demon fell.

Maurus grabbed the demon's head and wrenched backward, drawing another exclamation of pain from it, but it didn't go limp as he'd hoped. Its struggle was short-lived though, because Mathias came forward with a snarl on his face, whirling around and putting all of his momentum into a strike with his left hand. The bony claws stabbed into the demon's throat and dark gore sprayed from the wound.

Behind him came a clatter of armor and a subtle, bell-like sound preceded a felguard's breathless cry before a brief, fierce roar of flame overpowered all the sounds. Maurus paid it no mind and shoved the dying felguard away from him before jumping at the other felguard.

It had only just recovered from Maurus' stomp and it went down along with him, its weapon clanging onto the ground just beside his head. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Mathias, as far away as the chain allowed, sweep the legs out from under the succubus.

That was all he had time to see before he had to focus all of his concentration on his opponent. With the manacles, he couldn't separate his hands to properly grab hold and the weight of Mathias, and hopefully, the succubus, at the other end of his chain, made it hard to try for any solid blows. Instead, he kept throwing his weight at the demon simply to keep it occupied, grasping for momentary grips on its armor and kicking at it when he could.

The demon had no such trouble and kicked and thrashed and punched and Maurus felt throbbing, numb spots bloom all over his body. He barely avoided it when the felguard tried to slam his still injured head against the rocky floor and retaliated by scraping his remaining horn across the demon's face. Its response was a furious growl and a headbutt that made his vision explode with pain and ligh and it took instant advantage of disorientation. It shoved him off and he landed on his side with a grunt, pain spreading over his entire right side as the felguard groped around for its weapon.

Like him, it had hardly noticed the other prisoners that had left the cell and it didn't have time to react when Drim grabbed its neck and Calen placed both palms on its forehead. Calen spoke a single word that rang with crystal clarity and light, bright and golden like the noon sun, shone suddenly from the demon's eyes and mouth. There was a sound like fire spreading over dry grass and the demon trembled as if struck by lightning before it collapsed lifelessly to the ground.

Breathing heavily, Maurus pushed himself to his unsteady hooves and looked around. The succubus Mathias had been fighting lay between Mathias and Mirlia, her neck twisted and her eyes empty. The blood elf that had been charmed lay facedown on the ground, a dark-red pool spreading around his neck. The rest of their guards were dead too. The shadow priest Arianna had cursed had lost his head and the felguard Arianna had controlled lay on the ground with two felguard swords stuck in its abdomen. Beside it lay the burnt husk of the other felguard and standing over them were the orcs from the cell, along with the elves they were chained to. Finally, the felhunter Arianna had banished lay twitching like a dog in sleep, with a golden staff buried in its neck.

Satisfied that there was no immediate danger, Maurus turned Arianna, feeling his heartbeat slow as he saw her looking pale but unhurt. A fierce grin came unbidden to his face, but it vanished when she swayed forward and hurried forward to clumsily catch her.

"Are you alright?" He asked, searching her for injuries but thankfully finding none.

Arianna inhaled deeply as she stepped back from him and her nose wrinkled. "You stink."

Maurus snorted irritably. "Thanks," he said flatly." A little more insistently he repeated: "Are you alright?"

"Fine. A little much too fast," she said, though she neither looked or sounded alright. Her face remained pale, her grim expression seemed a little brittle and she was determinedly not looking down at the two corpses at her feet. "We should move quickly, I'm not sure about patrols, but they are somewhat frequent."

Maurus raised his hands but before he could speak, his ears twitched at the clink and rattle of chains. Glancing back, he saw that the elves had already taken the keys from the dead succubus and were busily freeing everyone of their shackles. He also noticed that a good number of the elves were giving Arianna rather stunned glances. He turned back to Arianna when he heard a clink and felt the weight fall from his wrists. He grinned at her and was relieved to see her expression gain more strength, even allowing for the ghost of a smile.

"Do you know where the others are? And weapons? Supplies?"

Arianna grimaced before turning to Mathias, who had demonstrably stuck his hands forward. "There's an armory, well, weapons pile, around the corner. There are a couple of other cells, and I think I can find them with little trouble. I don't know about supplies."

Maurus nodded, grimacing as the motion tugged at something and the lopsided weight of his head reminded him of his disfigurement. "Good enough," he grunted.

He turned and eyed the occupants of the room, dirty, exhausted and in a lot of cases, still wounded. But rage and determination, born of betrayal and humiliation, shone in their eyes and there was not a moment's doubt in Maurus' mind that they were itching for the same kind of violence he was. The grin reasserted itself.

"You heard her," he said, gesturing at Arianna and then at the tunnel opening. "Arm yourself. Healers, do what you can."

He paused for a moment as those who had been freed began to move. He didn't miss the looks of annoyance on a good deal of elf faces, but no-one spoke against him. "Warlocks?" He asked.

There was a brief hesitation before a couple of the elves and an orc nodded. "Summon whatever pets you can and stay on the front," Maurus said. One of them opened her mouth only to close it when she suddenly had to catch a small bag Arianna had thrown at her. Maurus could just see the dark, purplish stone when she opened it. "Snap to it. We can't linger."

* * *

_Well, I hope it was worth the wait. I have little to say, except that I'm apparently bad at sticking to a schedule. Let me know what you think. Any input, be it good or bad, is very much appreciated._


	21. Feints and Flight

Chasing Through Hell

Feints and Flight

"Next right, coming towards us," Arianna said. There was a quality to her words and Maurus knew that if he looked at her, he would find her seemingly staring blankly into the air.

He nodded and raised a hand, taking care not to dislodge her from the crook of his other arm as he slowed his step and stopped. The low patter of feet and the quiet rattle of armor quickly ceased as the rest of the group came to a stop in the wide swathe of darkness between the sconces. Glancing around, specifically ignoring the low ceiling and the ever-present urge to simply run till he saw the sky, he repeated Arianna's words and added: "Warlocks, sneaks, you know the drill."

He felt a spark of satisfaction as the people around him reacted with none of the hesitation they had shown with the first couple of patrols. The warlocks stalked forward, their felhunters returning to their sides from where they had been placed at the edges of the group. They were followed by few more elves, every undead but Mathias, and the troll. Except for the whisper of steel blades along leather sheathes, they barely made a sound as they moved and in the sudden quiet, Maurus could hear his empty stomach complaining and his heart thudding in his chest. Despite the earlier successes, his grip tightened on his stolen axe as the group slipped around the corner and his hands again became a little clammy when he heard the elves speak their Eredun incantations.

He snuck forward and glanced around the corner, seeing the patrol just before his soldiers attacked. It consisted of two felhunters, two felguards, three of those ugly, squat creatures, which Arianna had called lost ones, and a single succubus. The two felhunters were banished before they could react. One lost one, a shadow priest, staggered forward, seemingly pulled by the greedy inhale of the elves' felhounds, onto the tip of a blade. The felguards and the other lost ones were simply overpowered as three times their number attacked at once. The succubus at the rear didn't have time to scream or flee either, because the troll dropped her with an expertly thrown axe.

It was over in a matter of moments. Maurus' heart was slower to react and only when the group had already returned and taken up their places around him did his pulse begin to calm again.

"Good," he said as he continued down the tunnel. It wasn't long before he slowed again, seeing the tunnel ahead open up on a room. It was more brightly lit than the tunnel and looked like a larger room than the cell Maurus had been in, with a correspondingly larger group of lost ones and demons, many of the latter being imps, who capered around like children.

Arianna straightened in his hold and slid easily down from her perch. Mirlia sidled up to her, exuding a sensuality that Maurus found off-putting precisely because he felt his body respond despite the inappropriate time.

"Come with me," Arianna said, addressing the three elf warlocks. The trio moved up to her, along with their felhounds, two of them looking somewhat nervous in the robes they'd taken from Arianna's former companions. Maurus couldn't blame them. There was blood on the robes, though it almost blended with the regular color and it didn't take much effort to see the tears in the fabric. The golden staves they'd taken were more pristine, though the emerald crystal at the end of one of them had cracked and dulled somewhat.

Arianna turned to Maurus, though her words were loud enough that the rest of the group could easily hear: "Stay close and be ready. We're not getting more than a few moments of surprise and there are more guards here. Lock them down. If they ring the bell, we're going to get swamped."

Maurus nodded and gripped his axe with both hands. He gave Arianna a small head start, then followed, behind the most light-footed of the group and flanked by mages and the orc warlock. His jaw clenched as Arianna entered the light of the room and his chest felt tight with nervousness as he watched the elf at her right gesture imperiously at the cage.

Thankfully, the guards didn't immediately see through the deception and as Maurus and the others crept closer, the guards looked at the prison bars. In the moment of inattention, Maurus and the group hurried past the last torch before the room and when the four warlocks began their incantations, the advance became a quiet charge.

Maurus burst into the room, sidestepping the leftmost warlock and swept his gaze around, taking stock. Three felhounds and a felguard were glaring impotently at the elves, their bodies translucent and ghostly. Two bound felguards stood back to back, swinging their swords in deadly arcs to keep a gaggle of imps from running past them to the bell hanging on the wall. Mirlia was swiping her whip at the lost ones, working with the felhunters on Maurus' side to keep the shadow priests from putting their magic to use. That had still left a good number of imps, lost ones and succubi to advance on the four warlocks, but they were thrown into confusion by the new arrivals. Three lost ones vanished in puffs of smoke and confused bleats emerged from the smoke, while several others died in a flurry of stabs from the leading elves. Half a second later, the room grew hot, heating Maurus' armor and singing his fur as a stream of fire flowed past him, smashing into the succubi like a physical blow.

Gritting his teeth, he leaped forward, faintly aware of the others following him, and swung his axe with a fury that felt deeper and more bitter than it usually did. He exulted in the sight of the blood spraying from the succubus, but it was only a brief satisfaction so he stomped forward, hacking and kicking. It was a tremendous effort to keep himself from roaring his fury, but he managed, taking vicious satisfaction in the death rattles and the wet, crunching bones.

Mathias and Calen found his side, guarding his sides with blade, hammer and holy light. By the iron bars, another barrage of magic cut a swathe through the imps and succubi there and the ground rumbled and shifted and rose beneath them. The latter was the work of the shamans inside the cell, who crouched by the bars with their chained hands pressed flat against the ground. They weren't the only prisoners getting involved. Several of them managed to snare and throttle an imp by throwing out their lengths of chain between the bars and other threw small objects between the bars.

What seemed like just moments after, the battle ended, punctuated by the crunching sound of an imp beneath Maurus' hoof. Again, he had to restrain his urge to shout, this time in triumph and relief that that no-one had been injured in the fight. The bound and unresisting felguards were ruthlessly cut down while the rest of the Horde soldiers formed a ring around the banished demons, weapons and fistfuls of magic ready for the moment they became solid again. He felt a twinge of distaste at the sight, but it was so faint that he forgot it the instant he heard a groan of metal and looked toward the sound.

The two earth elementals that the imprisoned shamans had summoned were pulling at the bars. Apparently, the prisoners were as eager to get out as Maurus had been and he couldn't blame them. There were maybe a hundred prisoners in a cell that couldn't have been more than thrice the size of the elf cell and he could see in the stiff, pained postures and bitter expressions of the prisoners that their stay had been even worse than his. It made worry and a colder anger snuff out his excitement and he turned to the ones that had killed the bound demons.

"Find the keys."

They found a number of keys, identical to the handful they already had, which made the process of unchaining the prisoners a little faster. It was still slow going though, and Maurus' empty stomach churned with both impatience, worry and anger as he watched the prisoners and tried to spot any familiar faces.

His first impression had been correct. The prisoners did look like they had had it worse than he had. Not only were they filthy and visibly exhausted, but Maurus spotted many half-healed burns as they shuffled out to get their chains removed. His jaw clenched at the realization that his own group had probably been treated rather gently and that realization was followed by the thought that there were still a few hundred in other cells down here.

As loudly as he dared, which was plenty in the relative hush in the room, he called: "Any officers, I want to speak to you."

His words got an odd reaction. A growl rose from the prisoners and those who could see him looked at him with bitterness written in the lines of their faces.

"They executed them all," a burned, bald troll in heavy armor spat.

Maurus sucked in a breath, inwardly cursing both the demons and himself for not guessing they would have done that. He kept his dismay from showing on his face though and instead said: "Anyone who thinks they can lead then. And those who can find their way around a cave."

A handful of trolls and undead and two orcs answered his request. They ran the gamut from the simplest tribal robes in the case of one troll to full plate on the two orcs, but otherwise, they were quite similar, filthy, scarred and with a dangerous, angry gleam in their eyes. Luckily, they were willing enough to listen to him as he, with the assistance of Arianna, outlined where they should take their soldiers to find some of the other cells.

"The paths run in something of a circle," Maurus said. "Keep going till you find empty cells, other free friends or too many enemies."

"Weapons?" One of the trolls asked. She was a large one, one of the shamans he'd seen before, and her fists opened and closed as if itching for violence. Maurus decided to take that as promising rather than a sign of recklessness.

"There's an armory further back. Make sure to have enough casters," he answered. "You're each taking warlocks for scouting and crowd control. Make sure to overwhelm everything you see. If they raise the alarm, we're dead."

"Arright," said the troll, nodding seriously. "An'thing else?"

Maurus looked at Arianna, who shook her head. "I doubt we have much time. Hurry. Don't trust an elf if she isn't with other Horde."

"Don't worry, we won't," said an undead mage with a face that showed more bone than skin. The troll nodded in agreement.

"Good," Maurus said, nodding. "Go."

Maurus blinked when the little group saluted him, raising their fists to their chests and raggedly chorusing: "Lok'tar ogar."

He returned the salute and they dispersed, calling out to the groups around them. Maurus turned to do the same, only to stop and grin hugely as Crava, Tu'jan and Zilja appared out of the crowd. His spirits lifted even more as he saw Mo'raka and Rilli come up behind them. He had written the latter off for dead, but the troll had apparently been lucky enough to survive and make the march.

"Good, you're alive," Maurus said and the five returned tiredly returned his grin. As Drim, Tu'jan and Rilli embraced, he looked past them. "Any more in there?"

"No," Zilja said, grimacing. She gestured to the entrance opposite to the one Maurus had entered through. "Most of them got taken that way."

"Good," Maurus said. "That's where we're going."

He turned to Arianna and shifted his axe to lie over one shoulder. He could see the impatience in her posture too, as well as a tired slump in her shoulders as she sheated a knife, the one Maurus had made for Mathias. Mathias was standing beside her and asked: "Well?"

"He's still up north. I think the horn is northeast."

It seemed Mathias was truly concerned about their situation because his only reaction was the slightest displeased tilt of his mouth before he nodded. Arianna gave him a hard glare before turning to Zilja and the others. "Ven'Zarul," she clarified, before repeating what she'd said on the way between the cells: "He left with a good part of the garrison. This was the best time for a breakout. The other dreadlord might be here though, with his shivarras. We _need_ to stay unnoticed till we're ready, it's our only advantage."

"Don't worry, we know," Tu'jan rumbled, fists clenching. There was an angry fire in his bloodshot and swollen eyes as they met Maurus' before turning to his axe. Maurus smirked and loosened the three maces he'd stuck in his belt and held them out to his comrades. Mathias drew the two extra blades he'd put in his belt and held them out as well.

"All we've got to offer for now," Maurus said.

The orc and the trolls eagerly accepted the offerings.

* * *

 

With ears pricked for both the ringing of bells and the subtler sounds of approaching enemies, they quickly made their way to the next cell, encountering no patrols on the short distance. Even more than last time, Maurus worried as Arianna went ahead, this time bringing along Wiven and another mage in chains that hadn't been properly fastened.

It didn't help Maurus' worry that Wiven hardly had to fake his despondency and he was already moving when the first spells were cast. The casters around Maurus threw their spells just a few heartbeats after Arianna, which meant Maurus and the other warriors burst into the room surrounded by fire, golden light and slithering shadow. He kicked an imp and his breath escaped him in a exhale of rough laughter as it flew straight into the face of a succubus. She had been poised to leap at one of the warlocks, but instead, she reeled back, though not far enough to avoid his axe. As Mathias and Calen pushed back the felguard by the prison bars, he grimaced as he felt a numbing cold spread over his shoulder and for a moment, he felt something tighten around his mind.

Then it vanished, as the shadow priest staggered sideways, the dark mist around his hands and in his eyes winking out as a empty steel glove landed on the stone beside him. As Maurus pressed the attack and his allies drove a wedge into the reeling guards, more projectiles pelted their enemies, bits of armor, stones and whatever the prisoners could get their hands on. The imps in particular were targeted, aborting many fireballs before they could be thrown.

While Maurus and his comrades fought their way along the bars, the elves let loose a wave of magic along the other wall. Some managed to dodge the fire and light and shadow, but that brought them too close to the warriors and the Horde-aligned demons, who didn't waste the opportunity. Mirlia tore out the throat of a succubus, bound felguards stabbed two lost ones in the back and elf, troll and orc weapons flashed out to open bellies and shatter skulls.

Just like that, to Maurus' relief and surprise, the fight was over. The last succubus crumbled to the ground, fire eating away her beauty, and the lost ones returned to their own forms as blades opened their throats. The prisoners in the cell cheered, a worryingly loud noise and Maurus shouted, more from nerves than anger: "Quiet!"

They did, surprisingly, though gradually, after he repeated the order and as he waited for them to quiet, he was more aware of his own nervous pulse than their actual noise. When the silence fell again, he snapped to those outside the cell: "Keys!"

Surprising him again, most of the group outside immediately obeyed, beginning to comb the bodies. The only ones that didn't were those that were already fiddling with the cell door and the handful that were watching the banished demons, waiting for the magic to fade.

"Maurus!" Someone called and he followed the sound to find Shayla looking at him from behind the bars. Drunnya and Zrahi stood by her sides and behind them, he could see other familiar faces, standing in a tight group. For once, Shayla showed none of her usual disapproval. There was just tired relief in the deep lines of her face and that didn't even change when her eyes ran over Arianna and Mirlia.

The relief was understandable. Shayla was missing a tusk and a new burn scar crawled up her neck from beneath her armor. Most of the prisoners were similarly marked. He saw blackened skin, singed clothes, missing hair and heat-damaged armor and judging by the stained and broken armor, there were or had been more wounds he couldn't see.

It brightened his mood a fraction though, when Zilja, Tu'jan and Crava hurried over to their friends, showing a rare, open joy. It made him able to grin as he approached and said: "Guess you're itching to move on?"

"Preferably over the corpses of the demons," Zrahi said darkly, teeth bared. A click and a squeal of metal announced the unlocking of the door and as she let go of the bars, Maurus noted that there were more burns along her palms that even her troll blood had yet to heal. "You better have weapons."

"They're down the hall. This place is nothing if not practical," Mathias said drily, inclining his head toward the far tunnel and getting a number of tight half-smiles doorway in response.

The prisoners pushed and grumbled, eager to get out of the cell, many of them seeming to deliberately stomping on the corpses of the imps. Maurus' comrades were no different, crunching bones underfoot as they left the cell, still in a tight group. They only separated to have their chains unlocked and as they did, something twisted painfully in Maurus' gut when he saw Widget at the center of the group. There was none of the exuberant energy in her posture now. As she walked forward, she was making herself smaller, like a beaten dog and it wasn't the soot that made her face and hair black anymore. Quite a bit of her hair had been burned off, leaving messily healed and still fresh black burns clearly visible. Maurus' head throbbed as he saw that one ear was mostly gone, the remaining bit as blackened and red and raw as the cheek beneath it.

Shayla stepped in close to Maurus. Her voice was filled with disgust as she murmured: "The imps made a game of keeping us away from the bars. But they seemed to have it in for the goblins."

Maurus looked down, saw the dead eyes of an imp staring up at him and fury overcame the cold. He stomped his hoof down on the small head, squashing it with a wet crunch that didn't do anything to cheer him. Looking back at the approaching Widget, he swallowed.

"Get me what leaders there are in this lot," he ordered Shayla tersely, without looking away from Widget. "Arianna, get them up to speed."

Arianna and Shayla acknowledged the order and left, for once showing no distaste for each other. Maurus watched them for a moment before he knelt on the bloody floor, putting his axe down in front of him. As gently as he could with so much fury in his chest he said: "Widget."

Her eyes were wide and wet as they met his and her lips, which usually smiled maniacally, trembled.

He held out a hand and someone handed him a key. Due to her size, Widget had had a single manacle locked tight around her throat rather than around her wrists and the skin around it looked raw and blistered. She winced when Maurus folded a hand around her shoulder, enveloping much of her upper body and whimpered as he unlocked the collar. Underneath it was more angry, red skin, wrapping half-way round her throat like a primitive brand, centered beneath her ear.

"Widget," he repeated, this time unable to keep a bit of a growl out of his voice. She blinked at the word.

"Want to go home, Boss," she said, almost too quietly to be heard over the noise in the room. The squeak in her voice was not at all funny this time and he nodded seriously.

"I little while to go," he said. With his free hand, he reached back and loosed the stirrups that were fastened to his back. "I'll take you through anyone stupid enough to stand in out way."

He looked up and found that it was Wiven who'd handed him the key. He still looked ashen and grief-stricken, but there was a reassuring glint of anger in his eyes now. Maurus nodded toward him and added to Widget: "And if anyone tries fire, I'll stuff one of your bombs down their throat and let the the elf detonate it."

That got a ghost of a smile from Widget and the churning in Maurus' stomach abated just slightly. "Now get up, we're in too much of a hurry for your stubby little legs."

While they waited for Shayla to gather the leaders, Zrahi repeated the same story that they'd heard by the other cell: Almost everyone above the rank of grunt had been executed. The handful Shayla returned with were sergeants who had been lucky enough to avoid that fate or people who had been second-in-command in their units. Again, he was surprised when they accepted his orders with little hesitation and went ahead toward the second armory.

* * *

 

With his anger stoked by what he had seen and heard and his confidence boosted by his reunion with his soldiers, he led the group on and to his astonished relief, the rest of the rescues went smoothly. A while later, he found himself back at the meeting point, with the 27th behind him and its new leaders standing in a huddle around him.

"We keep moving," Maurus said, emphasizing it for the third time in the impromptu briefing. Forcing himself to ignore the bile that rose in his throat, he continued: "If someone is unable to keep up and we aren't able to carry them, don't leave them to the Legion."

It was a testament to the desperation of the situation that there was no more protest to that idea than a silent grimaces and that the idea of relying on a succubus for their distraction had gotten much the same reaction.

He looked at the three druids that stood on one side, the bulk of the two tauren making the tunnel feel even more cramped than it already was. The third, amazingly, was a troll, and if he hadn't seen the small man change into a tusked sabercat, he wouldn't have believed it.

"You three stick with the shamans. _Stay_ on the eastern flank. When the naga come for us, you swim through the confusion and get to the regiments to the northeast."

The dark brown tauren in the feather-trimmed leathers opened his mouth, a distinct edge of distaste in his expression. Maurus continued before he could speak, tone unyielding: "The news is more important than we are. And getting the army to head toward us will only improve our chances."

There was a short moment of hesitation before the tauren nodded stiffly.

"Any questions?" Maurus asked. He glanced at the faces around him and beneath the general grim composure, he saw fear and uncertainty, rage and grief. When no-one broke the silence, he nodded and tossed his head. "Back to your troops. It won't be long."

As the leaders and druids made their way back along the tunnel, Maurus took a breath and felt himself relax just slightly at no longer being the focus of so many eyes, his shoulders slumping.

"How in the blazes am I the one they listen to?" he murmured. Plenty of them were older than him, particularly the elves and he couldn't possible be the most experienced.

"You speak firmly, look confident and make sense," Calen answered, just as quietly.

"As mad as that sounds," Mathias agreed dryly. "Now don't ruin the impression. Any more than the snot stain does already."

Maurus self-consciously stood up a little straighter and felt the weight of Widget shift a little. That she didn't retort to Mathias' comment made something in Maurus' chest twinge unpleasantly. She had never been that quiet.

The time passed agonizingly slowly. It was an effort not to let his nervousness show in his posture, though it did help glancing at Calen, Mathias and the others around him.

It was almost a shock when a distant bell rung, the clear sound slicing through all other noise as it reached his ears both from down the tunnel and from the opening ahead. It made the tension in the air even heavier, a pressure that seemed to press against Maurus' back. He raised a hand, palm up, forcing it to keep steady and hoped his solid, unmoving form would be enough of a signal that they weren't moving just yet. With weapons in hand, the fear and worry was eclipsed by the need for vengeance and escape, something that he knew could be both a blessing and a curse.

Thankfully, the regiment held their ground.

His eyes traveled to the opening ahead, only now fully trusting himself to look at the square of open air. Arianna stood in the dim light, beside the two blood elves in the stolen robes, their heads turned to the outside. Maurus had no idea how they were able to keep the tension out of their posture, though he was glad they were, because otherwise, someone might see through the deception. They looked like workers taking a breath, enjoying a casual talk and the slight breeze that played with their hair and the edges of their robes.

It was so at odds with the almost painful tension in Maurus' body as he stood, stiffly waiting for a signal. His eyes were fixed on Arianna, his ears were peeled for the sound of more alarms and his thoughts kept circling the worry that they had already missed their moment.

Finally, Arianna waved a hand in a motion that could have been a casual movement and Maurus started forward, his lips drawing back from his teeth in something halfway between a grin and a snarl. He strode forward, the buzz of fear and rage in his body exploding into a roar as he felt the shamans' magic seep into him. By the time he reached the tunnel opening, he was running, his mouth tasted faintly of copper and his doubts were forgotten. His hooves clacked on the muddy rock as he came into the pale light outside. The fresh, damp air, the drizzling rain and the open space was bliss after the fetid, cramped tunnels and despite his fear, aches and the hollow pain of his empty stomach, his grin became less of a grimace.

The area north of the portal mound was just as Arianna had described it. A ways to his right the rocky ground slid into the water and the lake faded into the mist. To his left and to the right, the ground was open except for a the scattered leather huts and the poles standing between them. Further out, the mist almost swallowed the trunks of the remaining mushrooms and Maurus inwardly thanked the spirits for the low visibility.

A large group demons and lost ones had gathered in a loose formation between the two densest groupings of huts. They definitely hadn't expected to see so many Horde streaming out from the tunnel, but they recovered quickly. The formation tightened and several succubi launched into the air.

"Clip those wings," Maurus shouted before gritting his teeth and squinting as he ducked through a wave of fire and shadow that the lost ones and demons lost at him. He felt, more than heard, Widget's shudder and was thankful when the felhounds at his feet drained the magic from the air and snuffed out the worst of the barrage.

The enemy felhounds would have done much the same to the initial Horde spells, which was why the spearhead of the Horde charge was almost exclusively composed of the heaviest, plate-clad fighters. They crashed into the enemy line, letting out their rage in a bellow that drowned out all other sound for a moment. Maurus came at a felguard, raising his axe but instead of letting it fall, he kicked as hard as he could at the demon's knee, catching it by surprise and sending it tumbling to the ground with a howl. As he swung the axe down at the prone demon, a lost one slipped forward, blade aimed at his eye, but Mathias intercepted the stab before smashing the lost one in the face with the pommel of his sword.

On the opposite side from Mathias, Calen bashed in the skull of a felhound before incinerating a succubus with a snarled word. Drim laid about himself with savage abandon, cutting down a lost one and a felguard while paying no heed to the sword clanging off his shoulderplate and Drunnya and Shayla smashed a hole in the formation with the weight of two earth elementals. They widened it with twin blinding flashes of lightning which marked the beginning of the Horde casters attack. As more melee fighters poured into the enemy line, the blue tint of Zangarmarsh was washed away by a rainbow of colors that streaked over Maurus' head and drew cries of pain and dismay from the demons and lost ones.

Fire drove a felguard back and a violet-tinged shadow opened another for a killing blow from Maurus, before a succubus screamed in pain, burns erupting beneath her skin. Maurus grinned savagely as he pushed forward, maintaining his momentum and trusting his comrades to keep him from overreaching. Several more holes were gouged in the line as demons were banished, lost ones faltered with terror written in in their misshapen expressions and furthest to the left, the line buckled under the sustained assault of the blood elves' magic.

Maurus could feel the pressure mounting as more and more of the 27th got out of the tunnel and joined the battle. His heart pounded as he weathered several blows and jerked his head out of the way of a whip. He stomped on an imp, snarling and pushed forward with more force. It seemed like the distraction had worked and the horn he trod underfoot told him that they had managed to banish the demon who would have sounded the alarm, but they still needed to get through as quickly as possible, to get them a lead. A ways behind him, he heard shouts and realized that guards on the portal mound were probably firing down on the 27tjh, another reason to hurry, even if there were still sounded no horns or bells.

_'Break,'_ he thought, grimacing as a felguard blocked his strike and stood firm against his advance. _'Break. Break damn you!'_

Another ululating cry went up and out the corner of Maurus' eye, he saw a mass of dark metal, blue skin and blackened, but vibrantly colorful hair as a group of trolls hit the enemy in the flank. A ripple went through the crowd in front of him and his heart leapt as both demons and lost ones began shrinking back. He could feel the flankers pressing the enemies back and suddenly, the enemy broke, defending themselves as best they could as they retreated toward the west.

The frontline fighters rushed forward like wolves scenting blood and Maurus rushed forward with them, teeth bared, his blood singing with triumph and his muscles bursting with strength. He took only a few steps though, before sanity rose over the bloodlust and it still took an enormous effort to make himself stop. Pressing back against the advancing crowd, he took a deep breath, thought back to Garon in Ashenvale and roared: "Hold! Hold! Let them go, damn you! Hold!"

At first his shout seemed to fall on deaf ears and people surged forward around him, but he wasn't the only one shouting and in a few moments, more took up the shout and the maybe two hundred eager pursuers came to a stumbling, uneven stop.

Maurus breathed a sigh of relief before drawing himself up to his full height. He raised his axe and gestured toward the north and shouted: "North. We go north!" He roared. "We don't stop. We kill everything that gets in our way! Go!"

With that, he started forward, taking up a brisk lope. Mathias and Calen came up beside him and glancing around, he found Arianna, Wiven and all the others following him in a tight group. The ones that had begun to chase the fleeing enemies were a little slower to follow, but from behind, Maurus could hear the sound of boots on muddy stone and metal rattling, a noise that grew as the stragglers followed.

As they left the rocky ground and the mud turned the footfalls into squelches, Maurus silently prayed to the Earth Mother and every spirit there could be that his plan wouldn't lead them into disaster. It did after all lead them toward a known enemy as well as toward the closest friendly force.

He glanced around at Mathias, Calen and back at Arianna and took comfort in their determined expressions and in the slight smile Arianna gave him.

It was a gamble, but they wouldn't make a longer journey anyway, not when they were so exhausted, starved and wounded. It would have to be good enough.


	22. Burning Through the Last

Chasing Through Hell

Burning Through the Last

They made their way north at the fastest pace Maurus dared set. At first they kept their distance from the massive lake they had been ferried over, but after couple of hours, Maurus decided that they had enough distance on their pursuers to allow a little delay and set course for the edge of the lake, taking them along the shoreline.

It was exhausting and terrifying. The growl of starved stomachs, the squelch of mud and the heavy breathing of hundreds became the only rhythm they had to march to. The mud of Zangarmash made every step take effort, particularly for Maurus and the other tauren, whose weight and hooves made them poorly suited to the soft ground. The mist pressed in on them from all sides, hiding them, but also muffling all sound and turning every shape hazy and indistinct, so that every stump and errant sound seemed threatening. Even the calm, sloshing water out on the right put him on edge, because the lakes in Zangarmarsh had long since become a source of worry rather than the havens they were on Azeroth.

Adding to Maurus' misery was the doubt. He couldn't stop worrying about whether he was leading them to their deaths, tiring them on the way probably unavoidable battles. The certainty that not everyone was making it back worsened the weight on his shoulders considerably.

He was almost glad when first the attack came. Despite the knowledge the scout and Arianna had gleaned, he had led them into a bend that put water both ahead of them and on their right and the naga took the bait, erupting from the water and surging at them from two sides.

Their right flank was hit first, being almost in the water, though the frontal assault was only a little slower to hit. The naga slithered forward, hissing, their charge preceded by a wave blue magic that thickened the mist with icy cold and froze the soft ground solid beneath and around feet and hooves.

Maurus wasn't sure what the naga had been expecting, but he found himself baring his teeth in a grin as the 27th responded with brutal efficiency. Before the naga could take advantage of the treacherous footing, a blistering wave of heat rolled out from the mages and shamans who made up almost half of the Horde formation. The numbing cold evaporated, the ground thawed and the naga found themselves crashing against a solid wall of steel instead of an unsteady line.

The noise from the right flank was loud enough that Maurus noticed it despite the naga that was stabbing its trident at his face. The crackle of flame and lightning rose above the din along with the sizzle of steam and noisy splashing.

"Lok'tar ogar!" Maurus roared, the shout stretching the cut the trident had made on his cheek. He swept the knob of his axe up, within the naga's guard and it yelped as he connected with its face, cracking bone and teeth. It cried out in earnest when fire lanced over Maurus' shoulder and caught hold of its head and crest, burning white and green.

Any satisfaction Maurus felt at Wiven's attack was countered by the short shriek that the fire drew from Widget and the other naga warrior that immediately took its place.

He bared his teeth and pushed forward. Around him, the others were fighting with the same ferocity he was. Calen and Mathias were, as always, guarding his sides, hammer and sword cracking bone and cutting flesh. Further out, Crava, Zrahi and the others were doing the same for the other tauren he'd placed through his group and he felt a moment of pride at how steadfast and deadly his unit stood against the naga.

More fire lit the misty air, flying past the naga warriors and sending a naga mage staggering back and it was quickly followed by a shower of flaming rock, the size of Arianna's fists. A blue dome that had blocked several bolts of lightning suddenly vanished and another mage went down, a third of its head removed by an arrow the length of Maurus' arm, which kept flying, straight into the chest of a third mage. Maurus thought he heard an angry shout in Taurahe before another arrow took down a naga warrior and allowed Zilja to step forward to deal the next naga in the line a deathblow.

"Blood and thunder!" Came the cry from his right and Maurus felt a slight relief. The shout meant the druids were on their way and the knowledge made his body feel a little lighter. He caught a stab on the haft of his axe and screamed the words into the face of the naga, whose eyes actually widened at his ferocity.

The entire frontline took up the cry while a lower chant rolled around the 27th and Maurus felt his stomach boiling with trepidation that for a moment overpowered his hunger.

"Cut through! Move!" Maurus shouted, not allowing his worry to show in his voice. As the familiar words of the shamans rose to a triumphant roar, the tauren closed around him, though not so close that a single smaller warrior couldn't fit between each. The entire front line let out guttural, ululating cry and Maurus felt his fatigue drain away and his blood pumping hotter through his veins as he became more aware of every scarlet drop around him. His doubts faded, though the Eredun that was spoken behind him kept them from fading entirely and reminded him to concentrate just as the red haze turned black.

Spittle sprayed from his mouth as he started forward, roaring. His first overhand swung forced the naga's trident back so easily that the haft ended up against its breast and Maurus' axe buried itself in the naga's head despite the attempt to block. Feeling his teeth grind, Maurus ripped his weapon from the enemy and forged ahead, his head swimming with furious, overwhelming rage and his ears ringing with his rapid heartbeat and the frenzied roars of the tauren around him. He barely noticed the attacks of his enemies and then only enough for him to feel even deeper rage, which fueled his suddenly unstoppable blows and bone-shattering kicks. Limbs broke and blood flew through the air, fleetingly satisfying before his eyes fell on another enemy and the need for violence burned even hotter in his body. The air grew hotter and thicker with the smell of blood and, more faintly, of ozone and burnt flesh as he cut his way forward, stomping the fallen naga deeper into the mud.

Another naga fell, its chest caved in by a kick and several others were scythed down by streaks of fire and orbs of pure shadow, making Maurus grind his teeth at the stolen kills. The next lost its head to a sword coming in from Maurus' right and the one that ducked under his swing was met by a sword thrust from Mathias and then, suddenly, his advance became even easier. The naga drew back, the resistance in their line vanishing as they went into full retreat. He screamed wordless fury as they slithered out of reach and he started forward to chase them into the murky water, vaguely aware of the movements of others around him as they followed him.

He stopped after two steps when the black rage abruptly vanished, leaving his heart and head aching and the rest of his body screaming. His senses expanded to include other sensations than what he needed to kill, his vision clearing and his hearing becoming less dominated by the pounding of his heart. There were several heavy squelches around him and a quick glance around told him that he was the only tauren still upright.

He turned around as both healers and the biggest warriors hurried forward to get the groaning tauren back on their hooves. Nausea rolled in his belly from the memory of the overpowering frenzy and the revulsion he felt at subjecting his kin to it, but he didn't let it show on his face. Instead he faced the 27th calmly and wiped the bloody from from his face with a heavy hand. Standing become immediately easier though, when Shayla, Drunnya _and_ Calen laid their hands on him and a warmth soothed the worst of the pain.

The 27th looked almost as bad as he felt. There was faint triumph in their eyes and postures but tiredness and determination were most apparent and the mud and blood made them look even worse. The warlocks and elven mages in particularly looked haggard and Wiven was among the worst, with pallid skin and shaking hands.

Maurus' eyes fell on Arianna last, who carried herself better, but still betrayed her tiredness in the set of her shoulders and the line of her jaw. Despite his best effort, he had to swallow something sour when her fel-green eyes reminded him of the frenzy and he quickly looked away, guiltily pushing the feeling away.

The vile rampage had accomplished what he'd hoped though. They'd broken the naga and moved a good way forward, almost to the shore of the lake. It took him a moment to regain control of his tongue, the process eased by the gentle warmth of green and gold healing, but he decided against speaking when he saw that the healers were already working, while the rest of the crowd were slumping to the ground to take the break he was about to suggest.

Instead, he addressed Shayla and Drunnya: "Calen is enough, help the others."

He suppressed the grimace as the nature magic withdrew, though they had actually dealt with enough that Calen would be enough. Shayla and Drunnya each gave him a look, Drunnya's eyes unreadable and Shayla's showing something between doubt and uneasiness, but they both obeyed without protest.

He glanced around. Two of the tauren were staggering upright and the others were awash in emerald glow. Mathias was almost entirely black, what little of his body that wasn't covered by dark armor coated in blood and mud. He must have slipped at some point and Maurus felt a quick succession of terror and relief at the realization.

"Who'd we lose?" He asked quietly.

Mathias shrugged. "A tauren, further back. No-one I can name."

"Three trolls. None of ours," Arianna supplied as she walked up to him. Her voice was tired, but noticeably gentle and he felt a little lighter, in part because he didn't feel the distaste this time. The beginnings of a smile faded when shame soured his mood. The dead he didn't know were not less important than the people he knew.

"You sure?"

"I had a good vantage point, except for directly ahead," she said drily.

Her words reminded him of the weight on his shoulder and he was grateful for the distraction. Gently, he asked: "How're you holding up, Widget?"

"I'm holding on," she answered weakly and he felt her shift her weight and tug at him demonstrably. With a bit of wryness in her voice she added: "I'm glad I'm behind you. Even if it doesn't protect against everything. You are very, very loud."

That made him smile slightly. "Consider it payback. You'll even it out when you get yourself a new gun."

"Yeah," Widget said. Her voice was still faint, but she sounded marginally better. Maurus caught Arianna's eyes and despite the helmet hiding her face, he could see her eyes crinkle in a mirror of his own expression.

"We'll buy it for you if you keep the screaming down," Mathias said.

Maurus snorted. But instead of pointing out that they only had their armor and weapons to their names, he agreed with all the seriousness he could muster: "Promise."

* * *

Soon after, the 27th pulled away from the lake, putting distance between the shore and them so that the naga couldn't get the drop on them. The move also put just slightly firmer ground beneath their feet. Maurus was grateful himself for the easier terrain, even if it was as hard going as before, thanks to his abused muscles. The fear weighed just as heavily on them as before and on top of the fear and exhaustion, Maurus couldn't shake the guilt for the shamans he left behind to obscure their trail with elementals, despite his certainty that it was for the best.

They didn't encounter anything though and when the mists darkened, leaving them in an odd shadowy world dotted with fey firefly lights, the exhaustion became too much and the march slowed to a crawl. Maurus wanted desperately to keep going, but he needed the rest as badly as the rest of them, so he reluctantly called for a stop, organized lookouts and then threw himself down with everyone else.

He fell asleep instantly and woke what seemed a moment later, stiff, sore and generally feeling like he would never get upright again. The feeling didn't pass, but the 27th got moving again and the fact that they had survived the night brought him a little comfort, suggesting that the shamans he'd left behind hadn't been useless sacrifices.

Maurus again pushed them hard. According to Arianna, there were two traces, one further to the north than the other. One of them was probably one of Arianna's colleagues and Maurus was betting it all on that colleague being with a force big enough to aid them. Realistically, he was expecting it to be the southern one.

So he lead the 27th through the marsh, keeping as much distance as he dared to the lake, wishing fervently that he wouldn't see one of his scouts come from the north.

They were more than half-way to the other side of the great lake when a troll appeared and dashed Maurus' hopes. For a troll, Zon'il was subdued in color, his mohawk a turquoise that complimented his blue skin well, and in the blue hues of Zangarmarsh, he was well-suited to escape notice. Unfortunately, he had been noticed in spite of his advantages. Three succubi appeared from the mists behind him, cutting through the air on silent, dark wings, diving gracefully down to strike at him with claw or whip.

Their grace was undercut by their lack of success though. Zon'il was expertly dodging their attacks while still moving with remarkable speed, his long, swift strides eating up the distance despite the weaving path he was taking. One succubus almost crashed into the mud on one dive and an agile leap brought the troll out of the path of both a whip and a small fireball, the latter of which fizzled harmlessly in a small puddle.

Maurus realized with a start that the Zon'il laughed at the succubi as he dodged and when he turned his ears more fully toward the troll, he felt his lips twitch at the imaginative taunt he just barely picked up.

' _Leave it to the trolls to make light of bad news,'_ he thought wryly and nodded at the approaching demons. The gesture was barely necessary, because he could feel the vibration in the air as the casters behind him drew in magic and then a dozen streaks of bright fire and lightning shot through the air. The succubi might have been observant enough to spot the scout, but they were fixated on him, and the magical volley made them fall from the air like dead flies. Zon'il made it fifty feet before he realized his pursuers weren't after him anymore and when he did, he made a beeline back to the 27th, fell into step beside Maurus and struck a fist to his chest.

"They're coming for us?" Maurus pre-empted the troll, surprised at his own completely level tone. He didn't even sound dejected.

"Right ya are, boss," the troll said before giving him a mirthless smile. It was an ugly sight because it stretched an already half-healed wound that marred his cheek. "Saw 'em moving quite fast. Expect they'll be with us a little ways down tha road."

Maurus had a momentary urge to blame their discovery on the troll, but they had probably just been spotted by flying scouts despite their best efforts to shoot them down. Instead, he let the troll give his report, sent him back out and got the 27th to ready for defensive battle.

For his part, Maurus donned his shield and drew his mace. It was subtly different from his own mace and the slightly different weighting seemed to radiate up his arm, just another discomfort to add to the quiver in his abused limbs and the squirming in his stomach.

"Arianna," he said quietly. "Are you sure you can't give us a more certain distance?"

"Yes," she answered, a note of apology in her tired voice. "Though I doubt either force is very far off."

She hid it well, but he could hear a note of real fear in her voice that made him want to growl. He suppressed the urge and shifted his mace to his shield hand before reaching back for her. She moved into the curl of his arm and he pressed his lips briefly against the top of her head.

"Spirits guide us, love," he murmured quietly.

"Light protect us," she answered, raising her free hand to brush over his scarred cheek. Then she stepped out underneath his arm, donning her helmet as she did, and fell back to her position behind the frontline fighters.

"Lok'tar ogar," Mathias said beside him. It was strange to hear the battle cry stated so quietly, but he was completely right. This time, it was truly victory or death. He wasn't sure what the demons' plans were, exactly, but the way the portal had been camouflaged told him that they wouldn't allow word of it to reach the Horde or the Alliance. They would fight to exterminate, not to break or capture.

He patted Mathias on the shoulder before returning his mace to his hand, gave Calen a nod and raised his voice to address his entire group: "Remember. Nothing reckless. We're not aiming to break them. We just hold the line!"

As he got grunts of affirmation from the people around him, he glanced at Mathias and added specifically to him: "That goes doubly for you. Do your part!"

Mathias gave him a look that lasted a bit longer than necessary before giving a shrug and a nod, the nonchalance of it at odds with the sullen acceptance in his glowing eyes. Maurus doubted he really needed the reminder, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Mathias might still move if he thought he saw an opportunity to get at Ven'Zarul, but at least now knew how dangerous he was and would probably keep himself in check.

"Widget," Maurus said, glancing over his shoulder. Her teeth were bared in a nervous grimace and she was holding on to her short length of spear with desperate strength, leaving little doubt that she knew just how desperate this was getting. But at least she looked more likely to fight and scream than to curl into a ball and sob, though it was a close thing. "Just be sure not to stick that in me and hold on. We're almost back."

She nodded, her grimace growing wider and Maurus wished they had had a gun. That would probably have calmed her immensely. But the spear would have to do.

The made it about a mile before a shrill whistle pierced through the mists. Maurus roared orders and other shouts rippled through the 27th. The ranks closed and a sense of grim, final determination settled over them as they looked out over the stumps of mushrooms that dotted the ground north of them.

The whistles were repeated several times before four trolls came sprinting out of the fog, Zon'il in the front. In short order, they rejoined the regiment, vanishing into the center of the formation. They did not have much of a lead on the demons and Maurus gritted his teeth to suppress a shiver as a dark mass in the fog coalesced into hundreds of demons and fel orcs. An unruly mob of grubby imps and ruddy red fel hounds loped and capered out of the fog, followed by marching ranks of fel guards and fel orcs which looked like a solid wall of black steel and red and blue skin. Winged shapes drifted through the foggy air, succubi circling like carrion over the approaching enemies.

Maurus felt his stomach seeming to turn in on itself and then it suddenly stopped bothering him as he dug up the memories of the previous week and a half. The rage that flared up at the memories stopped the quiver in his limbs and made him breathe easier, if through clenched teeth, leaving his white-knuckled grip on mace and shield as the only sign of fear. It seemed to sear the worry from his mind as well and with a suddenly very clear head, he noted that he could see no sign of warlocks nor of shivarra. The fact that he couldn't spot Ven'Zarul was worrying though.

"Hounds!" Maurus roared as the demons gained speed and rapidly closed. He was answered by a flurry of projectiles, a mix of crossbow bolts, arrows and thrown weapons, many of which weren't meant to be thrown. He almost wished he hadn't dropped his stolen axe back with the naga, but he was glad he had lost the weight and it wouldn't have been much use as a thrown weapon anyway.

The flurry struck home with mixed results, but it did down a good deal of surprised fel hounds and quite a few slow imps, putting a stumble in their rush. More importantly, in the spot where most fel hounds had succumbed, the barrage was followed by a wave of searing flame, cut through by flickering arcs of lightning, cutting a hole through both imps and the warriors behind them. All along the line, more spells got through, though compared to the concentrated blasts, they were pale flickers of magic, stripped of most of their strength by the fel hounds' open maws.

The imps retaliated immediately, shrieking as they lobbed globes of fire toward the Horde line. Maurus lifted his shield, grit his teeth and forced himself not to gasp as a wave of cold slithered across him. He felt rime form in his fur and saw the white flecks on his shield and, out the corner of his eye, on Mathias and Calen, before the cold passed them and met the imps' flame. Many of the fireballs vanished in puffs of steam that cooled before it even reached the Horde line and those that burned hot enough to get through were so diminished that they bounced harmlessly off shields and weapons.

Maurus grinned when he heard several yelps, as imps fell over the stumps and swung his mace straight down at the fel hound that came out of the steam. Even without eyes, it seemed to have been confused by the vapor and there was an immensely satisfying crack as its bony head cracked beneath his blow.

The noise of battle rose along Maurus, shouts and cries of pain rising amidst ringing steel and chanting voices. He withdrew the mace, knocking another felhound back with the motion and kicking another and the mist was lit by fire and lightning again, drawing guttural howls from approaching Legion warriors. Light bloomed beside him as Mathias just barely knocked aside another sputtering fireball with his shield, hissing as he did before stabbing his sword at the felhound snapping at his legs. A heavy crunch sounded from Maurus' other side and the golden light that followed it drew shrieks of pain from the imps in front of him.

Then the felguards and fel orcs came out of the evaporating steam, long, black blades raised above their heads, roaring in unison. Maurus planted his hoof in the skull of another felhound, raised his mace above the rim of his shield and roared: "Lok'tar ogar!"

He grinned as the charging felguard faded to a ghostly green and swung his mace right, bashing in the helmet of the felguard on that side. As it fell bonelessly to the muddy ground, his battle cry was taken up by the other Horde, spreading like a wave around him and he felt something fierce and hot swell in his chest.

The next felguard brought its sword down on his shield hard enough that he felt the jolt all the way to his shoulder, but he managed to deflect the blow and with a grunt of effort, he shoved the demon backwards. A thread of shadow passed him and struck the reeling demon and its muscles simply shriveled beneath its skin. In the momentary respite, Maurus gave a swift kick to the felhound that was leaping at Mathias' side. He felt its ribs crack and his lips twitched as a fel orc grunted and fell, its legs swept out from under it by the demon.

Beside Mathias, Crava, Zilja and Shayla were wreaking a deadly toll on the fel orcs and on the opposite side of Calen, Drunnya's hammer and magic saved a wavering section of the line. Further away, trolls fought savagely, fending off the demons more by ferocity than by caution alongside orcs and the odd tauren and forsaken. Vibrant lights flickered over the battlefield as casters on both sides loosed their spells, shadow and flame spreading among the Horde casters while the Horde magic cut down approaching demons and blasted the succubi out of the air.

The line was holding, but just barely and the pressure and casualties were mounting. Maurus' muscles were burning, his stomach was curled into a cramped, pained hollow inside him and the rest of the 27th couldn't be feeling much better. Fingers of cold dread were ghosting through his body, but there were held off by his rage and the fierce pride he felt. The soldiers around him were fighting with stubborn, furious determination that gave no hint of their starvation and exhaustion and the cries of pain and dismay were constantly drowned out by defiant taunts and calls for vengeance.

Maurus struck a felguard, caving in ribs made brittle by Arianna's magic. To his shock, the two large fel orcs that filled the spot attacked in almost perfect concert, driving him back. As another surge of dark magic passed him, sending a succubus shrieking onto a felguard further back, a flurry of axe strokes hit him. Points of pain bloomed where the attacks slipped past his guard, despite his armor holding and several times, he felt the rush of air as he pulled his head out the path of an axe at the last moment.

Something moved in the left edge of his vision and before he could identify it, he heard a whip crack and the left side of his head exploded in agony that filled his vision with a glare of light. He staggered away from the blow and somewhere amidst the pain, something told him to brace for a deathblow.

It didn't come though. Instead he heard a roar of fire and a series of heavy cracks and he felt searing heat as well as something that pushed at his right side. Returning his weight to his left leg, he breathed through the pain and blinked, his vision clearing to merely tear-blurred.

The fel orcs he had expected to finish him, as well as the other enemies to their left and right, had withdrawn rather than press their advantage and were frantically trying to fend off the flaming rocks pouring down on them. One fel orc was just pushing aside the smoking remains of a succubus, which had knocked it to the ground, though he kept hold of it as a makeshift cover from the rain of flame.

Though his head still rang and throbbed with the remnants of the pain, Maurus could make out Arianna's clear chant and Wiven's fast-paced incantation and the sounds steadied him somewhat. Beside him, Mathias got to his feet and without a word, the two stepped forward with Calen to take advantage of Arianna's spell. A heavy stomp crushed the ribs of the fallen orc and the flaming rocks stopped just before mace, hammer and sword fell on the other fel orcs. Instead of pressing into the opening though, Maurus pulled the others back to restore the line.

As he did, his heart leaped into his throat as he saw a tall, black-armored form appear out of the mass of demons, his one-horned head and single wing easily visible over the heads of the smaller demons. Ven'Zarul was headed for the Horde a bit to Maurus' right and with an imperious gesture, a familiar greenish black cloud shot toward the Horde with a buzz that was even audible from where Maurus was.

A cold shiver ran through Maurus' body as he parried a felguard's sword, transforming into something wild when he made a decision. With a grunt of effort, he pushed the felguard back and, with more bravado than he felt, shouted: "Zarul! Hornless cripple!"

Maurus had to defend against a felhound that snapped at his hoof and so almost missed the minute pause in Ven'Zarul's movements. He didn't miss the tension that suddenly appeared in Mathias' body or the extra force he used to stab his sword through the throat of a fel orc.

"Gutless, flightless cur!" Maurus taunted, but Ven'Zarul was already closing and Maurus felt his lips quirk in a grin that he doubted looked entirely sane. He kicked at a felguard that was falling down in agony, caving in its skull.

"Dreadlord!" he barked and turned his attention up just as Ven'Zarul leapt. The dreadlord may have lost a wing, but he still easily cleared the heads of the other earthbound demons. His acid-green eyes burned with hatred and there was a snarl on his thin, white lips as he spoke rumbling syllables of Eredun. From his outstretched, blood-stained claw erupted another wave of hellishly buzzing locusts, but before they could reach Maurus, a wave of fire passed him and incinerated them.

Ven'Zarul burst through the fading flames and landed directly in front of Maurus, his hooves crunching wetly through the corpse of a fel orc. His right claw came down at Maurus with all the force of the leap and despite angling his shield perfectly, Maurus felt a sharp burst of pain radiate down his forearm, the shock spreading all the way up to his shoulder.

His eyes widened as Ven'Zarul's left claw came up toward his stomach, but Mathias' shield darted out, smacking the hand aside. Ven'Zarul withdrew it before Mathias could follow up with his sword and forced him to back away when he sent a burst of fire at him.

Calen swung his hammer at Ven'Zarul, but before the softly glowing weapon could connect, Ven'Zarul's remaining wing lashed out, the point of it striking Calen's golden helmet hard enough to dent it.

"I'll tear that wing off!" Maurus snarled, lashing out with his mace. Ven'Zarul twisted, taking the blow on the side of his breastplate, before swiping a claw at Maurus' head. He only just dodged it and that was mostly because Ven'Zarul had to dart back to avoid the attacks of Tu'jan and Drim.

Maurus' dodge opened a little window to the casters though, and they took full advantage of it. A volley of magic passed Maurus, the lightning making his hair stand on end and the fire singing it and Ven'Zarul actually staggered with a grunt. The sight of his skin blackening under the assault made Maurus feel a vicious satisfaction that momentarily eclipsed his rage, pain and fear. As he swung his mace again, he growled: "The horn too. Balance you before the kill."

"Arrogant little vermin," Ven'Zarul hissed and surged forward again, hardly slowing when Calen sent a burst of gold light into him and a bolt of darkness struck him in the center of the chest. Maurus found himself desperately defending himself alongside Mathias, hearing the shriek of metal as Ven'Zarul's claws scraped lines along shields and armor.

Around Ven'Zarul, the felguards were taking advantage of their leader and Maurus felt his heart sink as his comrades were being pushed back around him. Soon, Calen was the only one guarding Maurus' flank, wreathed in a golden halo that repelled the demons' attacks but which was rapidly fading in radiance. Mathias only barely avoided a swipe that would have opened him from hip to shoulder, thanks to Maurus shoving him back with a quick elbow. Even then, a felguard's sword sank into Mathias' shoulder before Tu'jan and Drim could kill the demon. The move to save Mathias opened Maurus for Ven'Zarul's following attack and it was only thanks to a stab of Widget's spear that his claws didn't find Maurus' neck.

Desperately, Maurus lashed out at Ven'Zarul's wing when it once again came forward to hide an attack. His attack was batted away and he gasped in pain when three claws sank through weakened plate at the bottom of his belly. Cruel triumph gleamed in Ven'Zarul's eyes as he withdrew his arm and lifted it for another blow.

A series of deep, droning booms rolled suddenly through the fog. Ven'Zarul's blow fell with no weight behind it, his whole posture suddenly stiff and from his lips came a short, sharp: "No!"

Maurus felt his heart leap and in the moment of confusion, stepped back along with Mathias and Calen. Ven'Zarul followed , lashing out with both claws and Maurus and Calen both had to lean back and hold up their shields to block the sudden attack. It still almost opened them for another attack and sent a jarring impact down Maurus' arm.

The warhorns blared again and was followed by battle cries from hundreds of throats, off to Maurus' right. Ven'Zarul's baleful gaze darted left and right before returning to Maurus, his teeth appearing in a grimace of pure, bitter frustration. Then he suddenly drew back, shouting in Eredun and elbowing his way into the Legion crowd.

As Maurus raised his shield to defend against the demons that filled Ven'Zarul's spot, he drew up the last bits of strength he could. Beside him, Mathias snarled, but Maurus felt more relieved than annoyed by Ven'Zarul's retreat. It was as sure a sign of their rescue as the waves that spread through the enemy crowd and the howls of Horde. He crushed a health stone, hardly feeling the burn against all his other pains and planted his hooves.

A short, grueling eternity later, the pressure lifted as the demons broke and retreated and Maurus' vision filled with the pursuers, colorful, shouting raptor riders and groups of heavily armored grunts.

His arms fell to his sides, feeling heavier than lead and almost numb. His heart was beating heavily against his ribs and his breathing was heavy and strained as he stood, watching the demons vanish in the fog. Most of the newly arrived Horde followed them, but a large group were approaching Maurus, druids, shamans and priests, and he could see more Horde out in the fog.

He smiled a smile so exhausted that his lips hardly moved and turned as the healers reached him. He shook his head once at the front healer, a troll in grubby green robes and tossed his head in the direction of the unit behind him, turning as the healer passed him.

He was one of the few still standing and that was a near thing with how badly his legs trembled. Almost the entire 27th had plopped down into the mud, though a large number of them weren't idle, but rather treating wounded comrades. Wiven was slumped over, trembling slightly. Calen looked like he might collapse under the weight of his armor and there was something distinctly pale and subdued about him and his armor. Arianna was sitting in the mud, propped up by her stolen staff and Mathias was leaning on his blackened shield. Shayla was sitting by the badly bleeding Zilja, her hands encased in green light, but she radiated relief when the other healers reached her. So did Drunnya and every other healer in the 27th when they were relieved.

Maurus' stomach rolled with nausea as he looked at the 27th and counted over a hundred lying on the mud. His tired eyes couldn't tell which limp, bloodied bodies were wounded, who were dead and who had simply collapsed from exhaustion and he feared the worst, even as the healers set to work. The fact that those sitting looked almost as worse wasn't promising either.

"We made it," Arianna said, pulling off her helmet and adjusting hair that clung to her head. Her smile was as wan as his and there was something in her expression that worried him, but Maurus managed a nod and bit more of a smile as he locked eyes with her. He stepped closer to, a movement that felt monumentally taxing, and reached down to touch her head. She was warm, even through his armor, when she leaned into his palm.

"We did," Widget said weakly from his shoulder. "We actually did. I thought he'd rip out heads off."

Mathias' grip tightened on his shield, but he didn't say a word.

Maurus took a breath, feeling a hundred aches in response to the motion of his chest and forced his mouth to work. "Bit more trek left. You're walking," he said. His tired words got an encouraging sigh from Widget. To Mathias, he added with as much confidence as he could: "He was pressed. Next time, my friend."

Mathias pulled of his helmet and studied him for a moment, before baring his teeth in a grin.


	23. Repercussions and Reassignment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!

Chasing Through Hell

Repercussions and Reassignment

Maurus walked out of the command tent with as much confidence as he could, which wasn't much. The air had been warm and cloying, the intense gaze of Tor'Chunk Twoclaws, Croaker and the rest of the commanders had felt searing and the strangled feeling, the nauseating knots his stomach was in and the trembling in his fingers did not vanish as he came out into the cold. Recounting the capture and escape had brought up some of the fear again, and he couldn't drown it with anger like he could in battle. Worse, describing the events had put the entire ordeal into stark relief and reminded him that it was him who had been in command, his responsibility and that many had died under his command.

He made it to the mud just outside the command post before he slipped and fell to one knee, the motion making his stomach flip and heave. His throat hurt as he threw up the meager contents of his stomach and his face heated in embarrassment at how weak he felt and how weak he knew he looked.

Red-robed legs entered his vision and just as quickly vanished, quick steps squelching faintly in the mud. His stomach heaved a few more times, each time less violently than the one before it and then it calmed. With only a mild protest from his limbs, he pushed himself back up.

The guards around the command post hadn't moved and only one of them, a charcoal tauren in red grunt armor, was looking at him. Several of them were questioning some new arrivals, but the studied inattention of the rest of them was a courtesy he appreciated.

The people passing him on the road were less kind and he saw several mocking grins as he swept his gaze back and forth. He ignored them with a grimace and followed the spot of golden hair disappearing in the crowds, feeling guiltily grateful for the distraction. As he came nearer, he could see that Arianna was walking with long strides, her back rigidly straight and there was less flowing grace in her movements. That wasn't really remarkable in face of the exhaustion but what was unusual was the way she fiddled with the right side of her robes, discreetly scratching and rubbing at the fabric.

Arianna had been in the tent too, adding tidbits to Maurus' tale before contributing her own actions by the lake portal. She had won some of the elves' trust by virtue of her powers, a relation to prominent members of the Phoenix Guard and sheer enthusiasm, allowing her to confirm Maurus' fear that the Legion had intended sacrifice them all before she initiated the breakout. She had recounted it all dispassionately, but her hands had been slightly unsteady when she washed them as she spoke and there had been more pauses than usual.

Worry seeped into Maurus' insides, which still felt like they wanted to crawl out through his mouth. Arianna's distress wasn't just evident in her movements, but also in the way she just let the people on the road bump into her and Maurus quickened his pace. He scattered a gaggle of goblins and pushed through a group of orcs, growling at them to move, before he reached out and closed his broad fingers around Arianna's thin shoulders. His fingers stopped trembling as he felt her warmth through the blood- and dirt-encrusted fabric but he could feel her shudder, small tremors that radiated from her chest and out through her arms. She seemed frail in his grip, a word he had never thought would apply to her and it cut into his chest to see it, enough to somewhat push away the near-panic he felt when he thought about his brief stint as commander. Gently, he pulled her against his side and continued through the crowd.

Arianna didn't look at him or speak. Her dimly glowing eyes were fixed on the lazy, small waves of the tiny lake that lay ahead and she resisted half-heartedly when he steered her along the road instead of letting her walk down to the shore.

A short, silent while later, he led her into a grouping of tents that stood out from the rest by virtue of their garish colors. Most of the tents were small and square and set up to be more roomy than the usual cramped tents most people used, but five of them looked more like ale tents, big, square and high enough that a tauren could stand comfortably upright inside. Soft music rose from the spot at the center of the tents, where two tauren, an elf and a handful of trolls and orcs sat playing their flutes, drums and a few stringed instruments, almost drowning out the breaths and whispers coming from the small tents.

Maurus led Arianna over to the troll who sat by the biggest tent, arms resting on a solid wooden chest. The troll raised an eyebrow as they approached and the right side of her mouth curled around her tusk. Maurus gave her a level look.

"Water. Washcloth. Privacy. And if we can borrow that or something like it for two days, I'm paying half-again," he said, gesturing at the troll's blue robes. At least he wasn't hurting for coin anymore, thanks to the reward he had gotten from Twoclaws and thankfully, the troll caught the hint, keeping her comments to herself as she led them into the tent. Inside, curtains divided it into ten smaller rooms and the troll directed them to one furnished with a few stools, a small, low table and a bedroll wide enough for one and a half tauren. The troll had barely left before an orc entered, carrying two buckets, a bar of soap, three washcloths and a bundle of cloth, which he left with hardly a word.

Maurus put all of it by the stool Arianna had plopped down on and dropped onto the bedroll behind her.

She ripped off her robes and tossed them away in a motion that had nothing of the sensuality he'd seen when she undressed for him. She was far cleaner than anyone else in the 27th, but that just meant that she displayed the dirt of their long march instead of the march _and_ the imprisonment. She wet the washcloth and put it to her right side, where the skin was tinged slightly brown-red, and scrubbed vigorously.

He watched her for a short moment, pulling off his gloves, before he gently said: "Arianna."

He realized he didn't know how to continue and hesitated, before reaching a hand and repeating, almost apologetically: "Arianna."

As he touched her scarred back, her movements stopped and she turned her head to look at him. It was the same pose she had had, a lifetime ago in an oasis in the Barrens, as they spoke of scars, but everything else about her was different. She didn't show the slight embarrassment she had shown then or the irritable haughtiness she had covered it up with. Her face was open for him to read and her expression was miserable. The glow of her eyes was different, changed by the sheen of moisture in her eyes and there was tension beneath his fingers and in the line of her jaw.

"It's true," she said, voice brittle. "He abandoned us. Betrayed us."

A shudder went through her, something Maurus only noticed because he was touching her, and she swallowed, growing a little paler. "I killed kin. I have family in the Phoenix Guard. How could they-"

She trailed off. Maurus rubbed his thumb over her naked shoulder, his calloused skin gliding over old burn scars, and felt his emotions swirling in his belly. He wanted to kill every last traitorous elf for the pain they caused Arianna, but he let the anger recede again, leaving him with the ache he felt at her anguish.

"I don't know, Love" he said. He moved a little closer and said tentatively: "You saved all of us. And the news we bring are important for the Horde and your own people. You did well."

A muscle in her jaw clenched for a moment and then she swallowed before resuming her scrubbing and turning her head away. He could feel, more than hear, the faint shudder in her breaths and he didn't miss it when she raised her free hand to her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. It came out in a croak, because the heartache he felt for her bled together with the guilt he felt for the deaths he had been responsible for, making it hard to speak. With his free hand, he loosened the last clasps of his armor and withdrew his hand so he could pull his breastplate and chain over his head. He quickly returned his hand to Arianna, feeling her relax slightly as his palm settled on her back again.

"I can hardly blame _you_ ," Arianna said, with both irritation and sadness in her voice. Maurus was slightly relieved when she raised the wet cloth to her other arm, rather than to the spot where she had cleaned elven lifeblood from her side.

"He is the best of us and he brought the best when he followed Illidan," Arianna said after a little while of silence. "The strongest, the wisest. If he can fall- And what will we-"

There was a hollow, naked fear in her words and more uncertainty than Maurus had ever heard from her. Gently, he seized her around the waist and pulled her into his lap, folding his arms around her. Her body was fever-hot as usual, but that heat had long since become a comfort that easily offset the moisture from her right side seeping into his fur.

"You're strong and good," Maurus rumbled seriously, hugging her to his chest. That was something he at least could say with confidence, all his nightmares be damned. "You've fought the Legion for much longer than I, and with more risk to yourself. I've had you or the others to lean on the entire while."

He felt her draw a breath and added: "And you consider what lines there are to cross. You won't lose your way."

Her arms rose to curl around his hands, but she didn't speak. His thumbs brushed idly over her belly and his teeth clenched as he felt the long, thin scar Ven'Zarul had left up her front. He forced himself to relax and said, with forced brightness: "I can carve you some more purity tablets if you like."

Again, she didn't answer except for stroking the backs of his hands and leaning fully into the embrace. They sat for a while in the quiet, the only sounds being the dull din of the camp, the light music and the splashes from the other cabins. Maurus wished he could find more comforting words, but he had already said all he could think of and eventually, it was Arianna who spoke.

"You did well." It was quiet, but utterly sincere, and Maurus felt his chest quiver with a start of panic and a bit of relief. It was the third time he'd been told that since he was summoned by the commanders, but the first time it had been without a caveat. Both Croaker and Twoclaws had bluntly told him that keeping Ven'Zarul's bones had been a huge gamble. If Twoclaws' forces had, for whatever reason, failed to act on Croaker's ability to track both Ven'Zarul and his bones, Ven'Zarul could have tracked and wiped the 27th out. If the dreadlord had acted sooner, he might have wiped them out regardless of what Twoclaws had done. The same went for the druids' mission. One had been killed on the way and despite their success, their chances hadn't been good.

Maurus had known that and seen no other option, but Arianna's unconditional praise meant the world, because whenever he thought of his command, he just felt the weight of the responsibility and the dead.

"Glad you think so," he rumbled. "I figured you wouldn't like people seeing you like this."

She tossed her head back against his chest and there was a little of her mock-condescension in her voice when she said: "You lead us well, Cow. Though you are right."

Instead of answering, he laid his chin on her head and silence descended on them again. Arianna felt less fragile in his arms, her stiffness had faded and her breathing had become smoother, but he could still feel the distinct difference in her. Her grip on him was tight and it tightened more when his own exhaustion and jittery tension sent a shudder through him.

He took a breath and moved back a bit, keeping a firm hold on Arianna as he settled more comfortably on the bedroll and let the warmth in his arms ground him.

* * *

 

The following two weeks were hectic, but safer, now that they were with one of the main Horde forces. To Maurus', Arianna's and particularly Mathias' dismay, the pursuing Horde failed to catch Ven'Zarul, but it was hugely gratifying when they heard that two fresh regiments had hit the portal mound and that a contingent of Mag'har, led by Hellscream's son, had come from the south and destroyed those that had fled the regiments.

The news of the portal had changed things though. The Alliance and the Horde both knew with certainty that there were more portals, but they had assumed they were broken and unusable. The threat of them being opened and bringing the Legion reinforcements had both Horde and Alliance scrambling to find and capture the portals, scouring the mostly secure Nagrand and Terrokar for any sign while heightening their efforts in the rest of Outland. The uncertain reports of massive construction projects in the Netherstorm, in the shadow of the stolen Tempest Keep, as well as the massive activity in Shadowmoon Valley, further called for haste.

Most of the Alliance were moving on Shadowmoon, capturing the passes in the obsidian mountains one by one, while a smaller part of their collective forces stayed in Zangarmarsh. They were supposed to support the Cenarion Circle and help the Horde oust the Naga from Coilfang Reservoir, their last real stronghold, before following the Horde into the Blade's Edge Mountains.

The memory of the climb into Zangarmarsh and the knowledge that there were several demonic forge camps guarding the paths into the mountains had Maurus quietly terrified of the climb. It was even worse than before, because he had found himself appointed the first sergeant of the 27th, by almost unanimous approval from both the commanders and the soldiers of the 27th, putting far more lives on his shoulders than on the Peninsula. It weighed on him constantly, making his days feel arduous and his dreams troubled.

He was exhausted and he walked through the swamp in a daze. His limbs felt numb and heavy and his eyes wouldn't seem to open properly, making the foggy surroundings even more indistinct. There was no noise in his ears except for the quiet slosh of water against stone and the squelch of hooves pulling free of the mud.

Arianna walked beside him in silence. The faint green glow from her staff illuminated the path ahead of him, revealing the saw- and axe-marked tree stumps before he could trip over them and bash his head on the cracked slabs of stone that here and there broke up the muddy ground.

He called a halt by small, circular lake and knelt by the shore, his knee resting on an old piece of carved stone. Beside him, the 27th lined up and in good order stepped forward to get water from him. He had to reach deep to fill his bucket, the water dark and distant under him, but slowly, he served goblin, troll, orc, elf, tauren and undead.

With the well dry, they marched down into warm, oppressive darkness, flickering with green ghostlights and weighing heavily on his shoulders. The entrance faded behind them, leaving them in just the green half-light and every face around him turned sickly and starkly pale. The tunnel itself was almost lost in the darkness, but their steps were steady and their path sure, even as their numbers dwindled and soon, he found himself stepping into a high-vaulted room.

He looked up and up and up at the lopsided, one-horned beast that filled the room. It stood hunched over, constricted by the ceiling, its arms and hooved legs bound with heavy chains and sigils were carved into its flesh. Green fire burned in its crazed eyes and in the blood that dripped from the sigils, turning white fur a sickly, rotten shade.

It roared, a bestial, deep bellow that contained nothing but unthinking, boiling rage and strained against the bonds. The teeth in its muzzle were all fangs, misshapen things meant for tearing flesh and a bloody froth, like that of a rabid wolf, coated them.

It strained against its bonds and roared again and he was forced to take a step back from the force of it. For a moment, the roar faded and the sound of chains breaking was deafening in the silence.

He looked down at the room as his arm swung the chain round, sweeping the room and tearing through the Horde soldiers standing around him and then, he was small again, looking up at his monstrous reflection as it roared like thunder.

The chain cut through Calen, Mathias, Arianna and, covered in blood, it crashed into his face.

He woke with a start, his eyes snapping open and his body curling together instinctively. The echoes of the roar still rattled around his skull as he tried to orient himself and steady his racing heart and rapid breathing. The soft warmth draped over one arm was immediately calming, though Arianna's open, green eyes made him inhale sharply.

He was far more concerned with how wide her eyes were though and a moment later, he realized why. A roar rolled through the air and he realized that a previous roar had crept into his dream. The sound was like thunder and cracking stone, deep and guttural and furious and so huge, even weakened by distance. The roar was how he would have imagined Nath, the ogre war god, to sound and whatever was making that sound must be enormous, bigger than any creature he had ever seen.

He grabbed his mace and crawled after Arianna, dragging his shield with him and came out into the pale, blue-grey morning light. Around him, his comrades were rolling out of their tents and the rest of the 27th were scrambling out as well, half-dressed and as irritable as the soldiers of the other regiments further out. An anxious buzz was growing throughout the camp as more and more people woke and turned their heads to the north, where the ominous roars were coming from.

They couldn't see even a hint of the source of the noise. The fog and the thickening mushroom stalks ensured that they could only see a short distance past the edge of the camp and only the uneven incline and the echoing of the roars revealed that there were mountains ahead.

He turned to Arianna and was somewhat surprised when she slowly shook her head, clearly as stumped as him. She had known something about most of the big threats in Outland, mainly because they often had something to do with the demonic, the Second War or Illidan's conquest, but on this she was as ignorant as he was.

Mathias sidled up to them but before he could speak, horns sounded from the center of the camp and quickly, the signal spread and Maurus felt as confused as ever. That was the all clear-signal. The monstrous roars were distant, but he still couldn't believe that they weren't something to concern himself with.

"I wonder what the hell that is," Mathias said blithely. He gave Maurus a sideways glance and added: "It has you well and truly beat."

Maurus snorted. "Only thing I've ever heard that came close to that was Magtheridon."

Mathias frowned at the mention of the pit lord they'd met under Hellfire Citadel and his gaze moved to Arianna, a familiar light coming into his eyes. "Think Ven'Zarul-"

"No," Maurus interrupted him and paused as another roar made it hard to hear anything. "That thing is enraged, not pained. Besides-"

He glanced at Arianna, who nodded. "The terrain isn't suited for summoning," she said. She pushed the tip of her boot into the mud and added: "I don't see any sigils. Do you?"

Mathias acknowledged the point with by tilting his head. He kept his head at an angle as something seemed to occur to him and drew his knife, handing it, bone-hilt first, to Arianna.

"Wasn't he in that direction?" He asked.

Arianna gave a small nod as she accepted the weapon and while she murmured the tracking spell, Maurus said: "Would be unsatisfying if that thing squashed him."

"Zarul is in that direction," Arianna confirmed. "I doubt he's dead."

Mathias growled. "Good. I want my sword in his gut or his head on a spike. Real certainty."

Maurus nodded, feeling a phantom twinge in the side of his head. He definitely shared the sentiment.

"As long as you leave enough for Ash," Arianna said lightly, bending down to scratch the felhound on its skull. He made a sound halfway between a rabid growl and a sick cheetah's purr as his maw dropped open.

They stood for a little while, staring uselessly and though the roars continued being frightening, the worst fear dulled pretty quickly. Maurus finally turned away, considered and sighed as he decided that he might as well start the day.

As he turned, he saw Arianna kneel down by Wiven, who, as one of the only ones, hadn't been paying the roaring any attention. He was instead sitting right by his tent, with a small, half-open pouch in his hands and his pallid face was dimly lit by the blue glow of the powder within. Unlike the rest of the 27th, he hadn't improved much since they returned to the Horde and his pallor and stark appearance was beginning to make him look more like Mathias than his brethren.

A muscle in Maurus' jaw clenched and something rolled in his stomach. Arianna's expression twisted momentarily before she schooled her features and knelt by Wiven.

"Wiven," she said, a slow admonishment in her tone. He looked at her, only then seeming to notice her and his expression became shameful. "Perfect, this is just what I needed," she added, lifting the pouch from his hands with far more gentleness than her tone showed. Wiven's lips parted and he inhaled, one hand curling into a claw, but then he just slumped, letting his breath escape in a sigh.

Maurus pushed away a feeling of disgust and helplessness and focused on his worry. He clapped a hand onto Wiven's shoulder, whose head jerked up to look at him. "Food, elf," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "I'm not carrying you if you collapse on the march."

He almost hauled Wiven for a proper meal and after the drills of the day, he dragged him and Mathias through the elven enclave to the goblins. That hour and a half wasn't much fun, but it was somewhat productive. Wiven's shame in the face of his kin seemed to steel him a little and Widget didn't quite scream during her session with Wiven and his flames. By the time they left, Wiven seemed a little more focused and Widget seemed keen on continuing her work on her gun.

When they returned to camp, Maurus was surprised to see Arianna and Croaker by the muddy road that encircled the 27th's tents. At first glance, they looked like they had just stopped for a chat by the road, but Maurus got the impression that they were waiting for something, a notion that was confirmed when Arianna briefly caught his gaze and tilted her head at Croaker.

He let Mathias and Wiven go ahead before approaching Arianna and Croaker. He greeted them both with a nod and a smile, placed a hand on Arianna's shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Croaker.

"So?" He asked.

The matronly, desiccated corpse that was Croaker smiled at him. Her expression didn't make her any prettier, but it did convey her wry amusement. "You are a very blunt one, aren't you?"

"You seemed all about secrecy before," Maurus answered. "I thought the less time you spent with me, the less exposure."

Croaker's smile widened. "Speaking to the newest first sergeant isn't that odd for my rank," she said easily. "Some of us are a bit more in the open now. And I thought it would be interesting to pay you a little visit and share a little gossip."

"Yes?" Maurus asked.

"The roars this morning?" Arianna said, smirking. "Gronn, the one-eyed giants that dominate the ogres in the Blade's Edge."

"Interesting," Maurus said doubtfully. He didn't see why that would be cause for excitement, even if it was nice to put a name to those roars. On the contrary, it made the notion of entering those mountains even less appealing. If the gronn were anything like their subjects, they would be stupid but horrifyingly strong and tough for their size and the gronn had sounded enormous.

"No-one knew this, but we had some of the advance scouts tease them a little," Croaker said smugly. "Convinced one of them and his slaves that Forge Camp Terror was an enemy. There's little left now."

That was probably the best news Maurus had gotten in a week and he felt a smile stretch his lips. "That _is_ good."

"Very," Croaker said. "With a little luck, he might turn on Forge Camp Anger too. Whatever the case, this is our chance. Shadowhunter Dejai's forces will deal with the naga, we march tomorrow."

Maurus felt a surge of unease roil in his stomach, but he did his best to keep it form his face, adopting a faint grin instead. With complete honesty and a bit of understatement, he said: "I _was_ getting tired of this swamp."

"You might start missing it when you begin cutting yourself on the mountains," Croaker warned. "It isn't friendly terrain."

"I know Stonetalon and the Needles. Can't be much worse and at least I will get firm ground under my hooves and proper visibility," Maurus said, refusing to let his Croaker's words affect him.

"It's not that bad today," Croaker said airily. The pale light in her eyes moved as she looked away from Maurus and over his shoulder, toward the camp. "I can see a fair distance. Interesting banner you've gotten yourself."

Maurus blinked and turned, catching Arianna's smirk as he moved. True enough, close by his tent, a pole had been set up and from its crossbeam, a dark red banner hung heavy in the moist air. A design was sewn into it and Maurus squinted to make out what it was. After a moment, he realized it was a stylized depiction of a bat-like wing that ended in a ragged stump where it should have connected to a body.

"A torn wing," Maurus said. _'No,_ he thought, recalling the expression he'd overheard a couple of times, both within the 27th and outside, _'_ the _torn wing'_. His taunts and his unit's previous dealings with Ven'Zarul had spread and now that he thought about it, he realized he'd heard it at least once used to describe the 27th as a whole, torn from the Horde but defiant and unbroken.

"Not a bad name," he said neutrally. "More interesting then the 27th, certainly."

"You'll get your chance to get a real wing to fly," Croaker said, her smile lessening to something more dangerous. "You have a mission. When possible, find Ven'Zarul and kill him. The Torn Wing is yours for this."

Maurus felt his throat close and he fought for a moment to swallow and clear his windpipe. His responsibility had just increased tenfold because with his luck, they would have to leave the main force to track the dreadlord down and that entailed much more planning than just following the main force's lead. He took several deep breaths and felt Arianna's hand on his arm. It was little calming warmth that allowed him to feel, beside the half-panic, something like the anticipation he always felt before a hunt, but deeper and more focused.

"Anything else?" He asked and he thought he might be grinning. Croaker certainly looked like he was, giving him an approving smile.

"Be careful. He can track you like you can him and dreadlords are tricky."

Maurus nodded as his stomach flipped a little. He nudged Arianna and said: "Don't worry. She won't let me forget."

"You have your orders then," Croaker said. "Prepare well. I doubt things will get easier from here on out."

They said their goodbyes and Croaker melded away into the crowd as Arianna and Maurus returned to camp. Maurus had just instructed two nearby orcs to spread the word that they were leaving soon when Mathias joined them and as the two orcs left, Mathias asked: "What's the news?"

Maurus smirked as he looked at his friend. He would be ecstatic, that much was certain. "Ven'Zarul is now officially our quarry. Get the sergeants, we need to prepare."

Mathias' grin was vicious and triumphant.


	24. On the Edge of the Storm

Chasing Through Hell

On the Edge of the Storm

The wind howled. If the last two months was anything to judge by, it always did in the Blade's Edge Mountains. It screamed down through canyons and ravines, making sleep and rest come hard, slinging stinging sand into eyes and exposed skin and cutting straight to the bone. More than once, Maurus had wondered whether the mountains had been named more for the wind's bite than for the spikes and blades that the wind had cut the mountains into over the centuries.

On the eastern ledge of the mountains, at the edge of the Netherstorm, where the sky had purpled with heavy, roiling clouds, the wind was even louder, the sound of a roaring beast, underscored with a ceaseless rumble of thunder. The air buzzed with a faint electricity that made Maurus' fur stand up and smelled of ozone and fel.

The Horde camp clung to the top of the most eastern ridge of the mountains and Maurus stood at the edge of the camp, in position with the rest of the Torn wing. The land sloped down from where he was until it fell away entirely into a massive, possibly bottomless gorge separating the Blade's Edge from the Nethertorm. A wide stone bridge spanned the dizzying gap to the dark, purplish stone of the nearest Netherstorm island, the only path over for fifty miles, and it wasn't undefended. Opposite the Horde camp, less than a quarter of a mile from the bridge, a Legion camp sprawled out amongst the shattered stone. The mess of tents and rough, vaguely orcish buildings were centered around a collection of black metallic structures over which acid green crystal floated, burning with fel flame. Demons and fel orcs swarmed throughout the camp, their brightly colored skin making them easy to make out against the purple stone.

Maurus swallowed and suppressed a shiver. The advance through the mountains had been worse than the trek over from Hellfire to Zangarmarsh in every way. It had taken more than two months to reach the edge of the mountains, two months of ambushes and mortar bombardments that had added twenty-one dead to the tally in his mind and taken hundreds of lives in total. And the Legion would have claimed many more if it hadn't been for the flying units the alliance contingent, both of whom had seemed almost reckless in their fervor, especially the former, for flying in such winds.

The Netherstorm would probably be worse. From what he could see, it lived up to the tales, a crumbling, ruined landscape that was wholly in the Legion's control, unlike the Blade's Edge, where the Gronn and ogres had always kept the demons' grip somewhat tenuous. Making matters worse, the bridge Maurus was looking down at was one of only a handful that connected the shattered isles to the rest of Outland, ensuring that gaining a foothold would be dangerous and costly. Already, several attempts to take the bridge had been repulsed and the 27th and the 12th had been sent to reinforce the two regiments already there, relocated from where they had been positioned to contain the Death's Door portal camp.

His mouth twisted when he again felt the suspicion that they were hurrying because the Alliance were coming. The Alliance were besieging The Black Temple and had it so well in hand that they were sending forces north and Maurus were sure that at least some commanders would rather push recklessly forward than accept Alliance help.

He wished he hadn't though of that and even more that he hadn't thought of the active, Legion-controlled portal behind them, even if it was as contained as possible. Knowing that there was even a possibility of the Legion hitting them from the rear added to the nervousness he felt at having to take the crossing. There was a squirming in his stomach and his heart was beating a little heavier than it ought to, making him feel as if he hadn't grown at all since he had entered Demon Fall Canyon.

With conscious effort, Maurus dragged his gaze away from the camp and looked at the people around him. The familiar faces, or rather, the familiar outfits and helmets, did soothe some of his anxiety and the tension he saw in their bearing made him feel less cowardly. Seeking further distraction, he turned an ear to the conversation in the rank behind him and found his lips quirking. The subject was a contentious one and had been covered with varying degrees of heat since the announcement.

"So they're going to traipse all over our lands now and we aren't allowed to put them in their place?" Saru grumbled sourly.

"Goes both ways," Taka said and Maurus guessed from his tone that she shrugged as she said it.

"Right, because Dustwallow is a place worth visiting. I hate being dry and free of mosquito bites," Saru responded flatly.

"Should free up more forces for securing the trade routes, I think," Dromon said in a reasonable tone. "Might lower the price on bits and that Desertwind Wine, if it takes less to get it through the Needles."

That got a thoughtful grunt from Saru. "I guess," he said, sounding mostly mollified. A moment later, he added in a perplexed tone: "What the Warchief wants with Proudmoore is beyond me though."

Maurus had some ideas, though he was also still reeling somewhat from the news of the union of the Warchief and the arch mage.

"Peace," Taka said confidently, mirroring some of Maurus' thoughts. "And maybe he finds her agreeable."

"But she's just a human! All skin and bones and pink skin," Saru protested.

"Also a chieftain in her own right and powerful enough to shred a pit lord with her blizzard. That's something," Dromon said. Tone amused, he added: "And not the biggest mismatch I've seen."

Taka snorted and said: "True, Elfsplitter and his-"

The comment was cut short by a sound of impact before Dromon harshly hissed Taka's name. Maurus felt his irritation vanish, soothed by the relief of not having to turn around and deal out discipline himself. At least, not this time. He felt no shame about his relationship with Arianna, quite the opposite by now, but he did not appreciate the nickname and he did not want it to stick.

He glanced at Arianna, who lazily tilted her head towards him. A flicker of flame lit up her hand, but she extinguished it with a flick of her wrist as her chest rose and fell in a sigh. Then she shrugged, though Maurus did notice that Ash's hackles remained raised.

"Not the only weird arrangement either," Buka contributed drily. "We've got the opposite combination of size and skin color too."

Despite himself, Maurus turned his head and ears a little, the motion making him once again notice the difference in the weight of the horn on his helmet and his own. The four behind him didn't elaborate, instead just chuckling, but Mathias silently pointed over his shoulder. Maurus gaze fell on Wiven, before returning to Mathias, who gestured to him, or rather, his shoulder. Widget was back in the center of the camp, having lost her taste for combat, but there was no doubt that her spot was what Mathias had looked at.

Maurus raised an eyebrow in disbelief and snorted. "You're joking."

Mathias shrugged and Maurus glanced at Wiven. He and Widget had been spending a lot of time together, with Wiven working to get Widget used to fire again and it had seemed to help both of them. Widget had regained her enthusiasm for gunpowder and Wiven had recovered to an extent. He was still gaunt and his skin was still tinged with grey, but he had been able to work on enchanting Widget's pauldrons for about a week, a successful test of control, according to Arianna.

Maurus' little group had definitely been more helpful than the cold, borderline scorn sergeant Thalmir and many of the blood elves treated him with, but now that he thought about it, Widget had been the one who had spent most time with Wiven, often fiddling with her new gun right next to the mage.

In Maurus' opinion, Buka's suggestion was still quite a leap though.

"You're as bad a gossip as they are," Maurus said. "More of a romantic than you'd expect of a forsaken too."

That got another relaxed shrug.

That was another thing. Mathias had been curiously at ease during their move through the mountains. With the pressure of the advance, which had put everyone on edge and led to more than one altercation, Maurus had expected Mathias' obsession with Ven'Zarul and his at times acerbic personality to cause problems. Not least because the dry climate was obviously bad for him. But other than making sure Arianna still had a sense of the dreadlord, he had been remarkably quiet. He'd even been a calming influence a few times, once breaking up a hissed argument Maurus had had with Arianna over an issue he couldn't even properly recall now.

Maurus smiled slightly. It seemed Mathias had accepted that Ven'Zarul was somewhere in the Netherstorm and that there were some steps that needed to be taken before they could hunt in earnest.

_'Some very dangerous steps'_ Maurus thought, as horns sounded the signal to advance and his stomach flipped. Behind them, kodos snorted and bellowed and wood groaned as they pulled catapults and stone-filled wagons into motion. Further around them, the other regiments started forward and to the south, the Alliance contingent got into position, draenei moving forward while night elves and humans formed up around a battery of ballistae and mortar teams. On the opposite side of the bridge, the demons flowed forward into their own formations. Felguards and fel orcs formed into tight groups, felhounds and imps forming around them and further back, succubi and fiends gathered, flapping their dark wings restlessly.

Maurus leaned a little to the side and said to Arianna: "Not sure I'm happy that we are good at line-breaking."

"I told you: You were stupid to volunteer to climb the walls and you were stupid to volunteer now," Arianna said. Her voice was light, but he could hear the tension underneath. Again, he found a bit of odd relief in it, in the companionship of it and he shifted his grip on his axe.

"It's stupid to even be here. But duty calls. And I _have_ gotten something out of it," he said, with half-forced bravado, nudging her with an elbow. In front of him, the tauren warriors found their places along with the burliest orcs, while slimmer warriors filled the gaps between them.

She glanced at him and with eyes crinkled by his smile he said brightly: "A bunch of good friends."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"And when we make it through here, we'll get something out of it too. Something you can make poetry about," he added easily.

That got a snort. "Crude," she admonished half-heartedly.

Maurus swallowed as they neared the bridge Thankfully, he had not been part of the disastrous first attacks, when both mortars and summoned infernals had hammered the bridge and forced the Horde forces back.

He swallowed again when the demon flyers took to the air, rising like a murder of enormous crows. He felt the tension spread along the soldiers around him and he could see the faint flickers as magic gathered in the hands of his casters.

The demons didn't descend on them though, but instead split into two groups that veered off toward the closing Alliance and Horde artillery, flying low to avoid the higher, wilder winds.

Maurus only noted that in passing. He was far more concerned with the stunted, malformed gan'arg engineers and the damnable mortars and the actual shield wall of fel orcs and fel guards positioned at the far side of the bridge and the bridge itself. He could just barely make out the scorch marks on the bridge and the remnants of swirling grooves in the acid-scarred stone. Removing the summoning circles by way of catapulted acid-containers had been a stroke of genius and one of the few collaborations between trolls and forsaken he could wholeheartedly support.

When the flyers had passed them entirely and the shouts and blaring horns sounded behind him, Maurus took a deep breath and roared the order to charge.

The Torn Wing sprang into motion alongside him, and Maurus' heart thundered along with the sound of hooves and boots and iron-shod feet. An ululating cry rose from the throats around him as the shamans worked their spells on the regiment and Maurus felt the subtle stirring of magic in earnest as the casters prepared their spells.

The bloodlust steeled his courage, made his blood pump warm and strong through his veins and seemed to sharpen his senses. He could smell old blood on the air, the noise rose in volume and he could make out the glass shards and scraps of wood still littering the bridge. But his mind remained clear, now that he was used to the spell and instead of narrowly focusing on the enemy ahead, he looked up into the violet clouds. With his seemingly sharper sight, he could just barely make out the lunatic wind riders living up to their names, diving recklessly through the wild winds, silent and unnoticed, now that all eyes were on Horde ground forces.

Maurus grinned, a half-nervous, half-triumphant expression, as his hooves hit the stone of the bridge. He had been told that the mortars had only begun firing after the attackers had been stopped by the Legion line the last few times, but he was very aware that they were within range now. His stomach flipped queasily, and it was not helped by the almost tangible feeling of the endless drop beneath him.

The front rank shouted defiance as they crossed the bridge, hurling axes and spears into the demons before crashing into their line. The impact was deafening to Maurus' ears and even a few ranks back, he felt the impact almost as clearly as when he was in the front rank.

Despite the guilt he felt at not being in the front rank, he was glad for the better vantage it gave him. As weapons rose and fell and the air grew thick with incantations and the pressure of magic, he held his breath and watched the gan'arg contingent.

Too late, some of the demons looked up and he breathed a sigh of relief when the wind riders reached their targets practically unmolested. The artillery units were thrown into immediate disarray by volleys of javelins, flasks of acid and bolts of lightning and deadly stingers and slavering jaws quickly increased the death count.

Maurus returned his gaze to the battle in front of him, where it wasn't going quite as well. The enemy line was holding fast despite the heavy blows from the tauren, though the enemy wasn't doing much damage to the 27th. Flame, electricity and freezing cold were hurled at the demons, but the way the magic seemed to fizzle so that only a fraction seemed to have an impact had Maurus convinced that there were a lot of fel hounds within the enemy force. The arrows and bolts that came from beside the casters had more of an impact, particularly Kiluq's massive arrows.

He glanced back, past the spell slingers, hunters and the billowing banner of the Torn Wing and found the Legion flyers being repelled from the artillery by a good portion of the force on the slope. The group he was looking for was unengaged however and as he turned his gaze forward again, he nodded at Malri.

The orc shaman flung one more bolt of lighting at the demons before raising a dark horn to his lips and blowing two distinct, mourning notes. There was a moment of hesitation and then Maurus felt the Torn Wing shift, changing formation in a movement that felt ponderous but which he had learned was actually remarkably quick. Where before they had spanned the bridge, now they left the left side open, that flank held by Calen, a few other paladins and Trokil's men.

Fel orcs followed, gleefully slipping around the flank, seeing weakness to exploit and Maurus grinned at their mistake, confident in the sturdiness of the formation and in his reserves. The orcs had hardly filled the gap between railing and Horde when the Torn Wing's reserve joined the fray. The forty-seven trolls and orcs had managed to obtain new mounts to replace the ones they had lost in Zangermarsh and now a spearhead of howling wolf- and raptor riders hurtled into the fel orcs to the sound of kodo-skin drums.

The Legion's flankers hadn't had time to solidify their line and the cavalry charge drove them back, claw, fang and steel tearing apart fel orcs by the dozens. Maurus' group followed, a barrage of magic from the blood elves incinerating more of the left flank and the enemy formation began to buckle.

Maurus' heart hammered as he shouted the command to advance and was answered by a roar from his soldiers. If they could cross the bridge and the Horde artillery survived the Legion flyers, the chances of capturing the other side was looking better. If the Horde was the only side with artillery, the Legion's superior numbers would be far less useful and could be mostly kept at bay while the Horde forces crossed the bridge.

The enemies on the bridge were buckling, their left flank collapsing rapidly and the Torn Wing cavalry were preparing to withdraw or storm forward to avoid getting bogged down by the enemy reinforcements. To his surprise, Maurus felt the same exhilaration he usually felt when he was in the thick of the fighting, only slightly marred by the urge to let his tension come out as violence. He could hear Arianna's invocations and easily recognized the shadowy bolts and greenish fire she flung and he could feel the heat from Wiven's magic pass by his opposite side.

Ahead, he could see Mathias fighting side by side with Drunnya and a brown tauren named Bogu and had an odd feeling of wrongness. It was forgotten a heartbeat later though, when a flash of acid-green light almost blinded him and drew shouts of surprise from To'ro and his cavalry.

Squinting against the spots in his vision, Maurus saw six demons in the spot where the light had been. Five of them were hulking, green, winged forms, towering over both felguards and tauren, with heads that were mostly mouth and horns and heavy swords in each hand. The sixth was tall and spindly like a spider, a resemblance only heightened by her six arms and the jagged, flaming headdress she wore. She was clad in armor reminiscent of the scraps succubi wore and brandished four swords, each of which were long enough that Maurus would have to wield it with two hands. Her acid-green eyes glowed with flame and malice and dark conviction and when the shivarra shouted a stream of Eredun, Maurus recognized the sound of fanatic faith despite only understanding the words 'blood', 'burn' and 'lord'.

Worse, he actually felt the burning presence spread from the demonic priestess and a new light came into the eyes of demons and fel orcs. A roar of zealous rage rolled out from the Legion forces and the advance stopped cold. To'ro barely avoided the slash of the shivarra's blades and Bar'il and Druga weren't so lucky, both getting torn off their mounts by the demons' blades and Druga tumbled over the edge of the bridge, limp as a broken doll.

Maurus suppressed his first impulse, to leap forward and instead swept his gaze up the slope ahead. To his dismay, he could make out a similar group hacking their way into the wind riders, who were already leaping into the air and separating to present a less densely packed target to the warlocks and demons converging on them. Most importantly though, it did not look like gan'arg had all been slain and already, a number of them were righting their mortars.

Maurus looked over his shoulder and found that, although reinforcements were at the edge of the bridge, they were not moving forward, having spotted the failure of the wind riders as well. Further back, Horde soldiers had engaged the Legion flyers, but the artillery were not free yet and the flyers were not withdrawing yet.

Maurus could feel the pressure mounting and the cavalry was struggling, defanged by the loss of their momentum. He considered the path behind them, back over the bridge and dreaded the impending bombardment. Then his gaze fell on the shivarra and a thought occurred to him. The priestesses were rare and powerful and far from expendable, among the top of the demonic hierarchy.

"Sound the retreat," Maurus barked at Malri, before starting forward toward the left flank, slinging his shield from his shoulder and securing his axe. The horn rang out over the battle, a sound of bitter failure to him, but he bit down the annoyance and shouted to To'ro: "Don't kill the shivarra, hold it! Kill the fiends!"

"Killing isn't the problem, boss!" To'ro shouted back, making his wolf dance back to avoid three sweeps of sickly glowing swords.

"Calen, give us room!" Maurus shouted, but Calen was already moving. With a swing of his hammer and a muttered word, light scorched out through the eyes and mouth of one of the pit fiends. It froze in agony and with its guard down, several arrows took it in the chest and head, sending it to the ground.

As Maurus took his place beside him, blocking a bone-jarring blow from another pit fiend, Calen's entire body erupted with golden light. He stepped in front of two reeling wolf riders and a flurry of the shivarra's attacks simply bounced off him instead of connecting with the cavalry.

Maurus gritted his teeth against a blast of flame, glad Arianna had been hard at work on his armor as well as his shield, and blocked and deflected several more blows. Glancing around him, he could see that the retreat was progressing somewhat smoothly and the lack of explosions told him that his hunch had been correct. As long as the shivarra was in the thick of the fighting and the Legion was winning, the mortars would remain silent.

The shivarra's eyes found Maurus' and his mouth felt suddenly dry as that hellish light focused on him. He raised his shield and mace, angling himself against the four swords that came down on him and he managed to avoid getting slashed to ribbons, but the strokes overbalanced him and actually spun him as he lost his footing. Vertigo and terror flashed through him as he looked up at the upside-down demon and the fel orcs going in for the kill.

Then he heard the familiar voice of Arianna rise in a enraged, screaming incantation and he looked down. She must have followed him when he moved, because she was right behind the warriors and once again, he found himself enraptured by her furious expression, the flash of magic around her fingers and the power that flowed out from her. There was a stutter in the hellish prayer and when Maurus looked up, he saw the shivarra straining against bands of flame, the two fel orcs beside her falling to their knees with agony written in their expressions.

An armored fist helped Maurus to his feet and as he rose and spun to face the enemy, he gathered his wits and barked: "Arianna-"

Before he could finish the sentence, something shot through the air and there was a cracking sound of impact before the shouts of hellish prayer stopped entirely. The shivarra was flung back and landed, sprawling, on top of several of her allies. Her swords had fell from her hands, wounding several demons and her face twisted in furious disbelief as she looked at the ballista bolt buried in her rib cage. She gurgled wetly and then bolts of magic and steel slammed into her chest and face, tearing her apart and extinguishing the fel flame in her eyes and headdress.

To'ro cheered and dozens of voices took up the cheer, but Maurus felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. The demons had recovered and the pressure of all the troops behind them had grown so big that his unit couldn't possibly drive them back even with the ballistae bolts that exploded among the enemy formation.

Worse, the gan'arg had recovered.

He glanced back at the bridge. They had only made it a little of the way back and there was still a long way to the safe distance from the mortars.

"Full retreat," he shouted at Malri. More generally, he roared: "Fast pace, shield's up!"

Even without the shivarra, the Legion force fought with the ferocity she had inspired and Maurus felt the confidence of the bloodlust fading, both in himself and those around him. Pain bloomed in his arms and across his shoulders as he shielded those around him from the blows of the pit fiends and half-way across the bridge, his head was ringing from a blow that had clipped his helmet.

He looked up, then back along the bridge. As he did, he noticed Wiven glance up and felt his jaw drop when he flung a fistful of fire straight up and a boom rolled down over them.

"Casters! Fire! Earth!" He roared and Malri reacted to his words with another loud horn signal. The air around him grew blistering as the casters reacted and the ground trembled. His heart hammered and his body thrummed with urgency and suddenly, he felt that sense of connection again. As Ash and the other familiars came launched themselves into the demons and fire and earth elementals threw themselves at the pit fiends, Maurus slammed his hoof down on the ground and the pit fiend and the fel orcs in front of him reeled back. Bursts of light flew from the hands of paladins and priests, stunning the enemies while a rain of flaming rocks made them falter and stumble back.

In the room that gave them, the Torn Wing drew back and fell into full retreat. The rear of Maurus' force was already sprinting and soon after, Maurus was running full speed as well.

They could not have cut it any closer, because the gan'arg had begun firing. An explosion deafened Maurus' right ear and drew blood from his mailed leg. A few steps later, he physically hauled a troll and an orc with him, dragging them from the carnage a mortar shell had created two thirds of the way across the bridge.

Bile and shame was far more present than the pain when he reached the other side of the bridge. The Legion hadn't pursued them, but twenty or thirty mangled corpses lay on the bridge behind him because of the gan'arg. In front of him, he finally saw the Legion flyers retreating, reduced to a small fraction of their number and as he turned around again, he saw the projectiles of the artillery tear holes in the withdrawing enemies.

It was too little and too late though and once he had handed the two wounded over to Sithari, one of the blood elf priests, he took off his helmet and spit bitterly onto the dusty ground. He glared hatefully across the bridge at the Legion forces returning to their camp.

After a few moments, he felt a presence beside him and there was a light pressure on his arm.

"Don't-" Arianna began.

"I know this wasn't a total loss," he interrupted her. "Their artillery are down to maybe a quarter strength and their flyers are decimated."

He looked at her and saw red on her face and dark patches on her robes. With more urgency, he asked: "Are you hurt?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. I'm not the one too stubborn for my own good." Her expression darkened. "Caught the spray from Miran."

Maurus swallowed. "We may be a step ahead, but this still doesn't feel like a victory. Any idea about our losses?"

"Fourteen, plus whoever doesn't make it through. Mathias' arm is full of shrapnel. Calen broke his arm, again."

Maurus nodded grimly. "Damn them all."

"They are," Arianna said.

Something in her voice made him look at her and place a comforting hand around her side. With gentle emphasis, he said: "That is exactly what it means, throwing in with the Legion, yeah. We'll send them to the hell they deserve."

That chased away the discomfort on her face and with his spirits buoyed slightly by having cheered her up, he turned from the carnage and followed his soldiers up the slope, trying to ignore the sounds of agony around him.

* * *

The days passed in a harrowing blur as they remained on the edge of the Netherstorm. The Horde tried six more times, two of them with The Torn Wing in a significant role but no great change happened. The Legion's losses were much worse than the Horde's, in great deal thanks to the artillery imbalance, but the demons used rapid deployment to stop any attempt to cross the bridge, negating the artillery advantage by only coming within range to engage the Horde troops. Reinforcements also arrived on both sides, ensuring the stalemate.

Almost two weeks later, days before more Alliance forces were bound to arrive, Maurus found himself fuming in his tent, irrationally annoyed at Arianna's easy sleep. He knew he ought to sleep, but whenever he closed his eyes, familiar faces played behind his eyelids, phantom screams filled his ears and a helpless rage made sleep escape him.

In an attempt to calm himself, he drew Arianna closer. Her snores stopped and one eye cracked open just slightly.

"Not now. Sleep," she murmured drowsily, but rolled readily into his embrace and that drew a small smile from Maurus, despite his inner turmoil.

"Do that, Love," he murmured, resting his chin against her head and folding his ears so he was listening to her breathing. From outside came the ever-present noise of the camp, the sound of life and metal, fire and beasts. Much more sound from the beasts than usual, he noticed after a few moments. There was the howling and yips of wolves, the bellowing of the kodos and louder voices than he usually associated with the time between night and early morning.

He opened his eyes and frowned. _'A morning attack?'_ He wondered. _'But then, why aren't we all informed?'_

For a moment, he tried to extricate himself from Arianna's arms, but when that failed, he simply sat up, dragging her with him. She made an unhappy sound and said flatly: "You are a terrible pillow today."

"Something is happening," he answered.

Still without opening her eyes, Arianna said: "And we'd know if we were supposed to be part of it."

That was true, Maurus knew. The sounds were urgent, but not the kind he had come to associate with ambushes or attacks on the camp. There was much less blaring horns, for one.

He had hardly thought that thought when he heard a distant, blaring horn. Another answered and soon, there was a distant chorus of horns and the faint sound of howling Horde. There was a moment of panicked confusion before he recognized the attack signals for what they were and the answering horns from his camp made him come fully awake. In his arms, Arianna had tensed too and in a few moments, they were both tumbling out of the tent, barely clothed.

The Horde cavalry was charging down the slope, a spearhead of kodos surrounded by wolf- and raptor riders. It was a tactic they hadn't used before, the kodo riders being too valuable to send into range of the artillery, but that was a moot point now. The Legion artillery was turned toward the Horde already on the other side, on the Netherstorm side of the Legion camp. Banners Maurus hadn't seen in at least a month waved like spots of flame and blood as at least two thousand Horde followed them down into the demon camp and the fel orcs holding the bridge suddenly looked awfully vulnerable.

Mathias tumbled out of his tent just in time to see the cavalry smash into the fel orcs and he met Maurus' vicious smile with one of his own.

"Get up! Up, you lazy ogre dung!" Maurus shouted, probably pointlessly, at the people crawling out of their tents all around him. As he did, he was already reaching for his gear, grabbing Arianna's new, simple staff as he did. He wasn't even disappointed that he was missing the glory this time, only vindictively thrilled to see the Legion forces crumble between the cavalry and the Horde coming down the hill.

By the time the Torn Wing was organized and ready to move down the hill, the Legion camp was in chaos and the addition of two Horde regiments from the Blade's Edge side had turned the battle into a slaughter. Maurus had a sneaking suspicion that at least the 12th had had advance notice, because they had joined the cavalry almost immediately and blocked off the northern line of retreat.

_'Or maybe they were just more attentive,'_ Maurus thought, slightly annoyed with himself as he stood and observed, having decided that there was little point in hurrying to what was already a done battle. Artillery was raining down death on the demons retreating toward the south, obliterating the quickest ones while the Horde soldiers and cavalry were running down the slowest.

"We missed out," Crava said beside him.

Maurus shrugged. "We did our part. Though they _really_ did theirs," he said, looking at newly arrived Horde. At the start of the battle, there had been a lot of small explosions and even now, the fleeing crowd was sporadically broken up by the sharp light and smoke that were tell-tale signs of goblin engineering.

Crava and Zilja looked at him in question and comprehension only just dawned on Arianna as he looked at her. "We would have heard if they had just taken the southern bridge. Pretty sure most of those guys went here by zeppelin."

That made most of the people around him look up into the swirling, thunder-filled sky with disbelief and awe on their faces, from Drunnya and Shayla to To'ro and Thalmir.

"There _are_ people crazier than you," he heard Wiven say.

He smiled when he heard Widget reply, for once with all of her carefreeness: "Told you so."

Beside Maurus, Mathias rose to his full height and looked into the far distance with an intent expression on his face. Then he said: "The path is open now. Enough for you?"

Maurus felt a rush of anticipation and satisfaction as he followed Mathias' gaze, but his words were measured when he spoke. "Yes, almost. Just don't get too impatient if we keep somewhat close to our own. We won't get anything done if we overreach."

Mathias nodded, though now the impatience was back in his expression. They both turned their heads to Arianna, who had evidently anticipated it, because she was already holding Mathias' bone dagger.

"West-southwest. A good distance," she said simply, raising a hand to point. Maurus followed the direction she indicated and despite his anticipation, he also felt the familiar fear curl in his stomach. It could have been his imagination, but he thought it looked brighter in the direction Arianna was pointing, like violet lighting inside a dark, purple cloud.

"Everyone," Maurus called. He felt somewhat odd giving the order, with the last stage of the battle still winding down in front of him. "You know what we are after. Pack up and get what you need. Our hunt begins in earnest."


	25. Burning Crusade

Chasing Through Hell

Burning Crusade

"Find the stores. Take nothing you don't need. And watch yourselves. You know the enemy."

Around Maurus, the part of the Torn Wing that wasn't wounded or healing set into motion, beginning the search of the outpost. It shouldn't take long, seeing as it was composed of two dozen simple stone huts and two caves in the cliff that mostly hid the outpost from view and shielded it from the wild winds of the Netherstorm. It was actually _very_ well-hidden, now that he thought about it and it had been a spot of luck that they had discovered it. They might as well make a bit more use of it.

"To'ro," he called. The cavalry leader looked up from the fel orc corpse his raptor was tearing into and saluted. Maurus pointed at the western-most hut, one of the larger ones, with a very noticeable hole in the roof to let out the smoke from a fire. "Put the dead there. We're staying here for the night."

To'ro nodded, the motion making his violet mohawk sway and his bone trinkets rattle, before beginning to shout orders. Soon, sixty trolls and the few forsaken under Maurus' command were gathering up the corpses. Every forsaken except one. Maurus could practically feel his friend's gaze and silently waited for him to speak.

"We're wasting time," he said. Maurus noted with annoyance, but not real surprise, that the impatient tone was back. "By my reckoning, it's only a little past noon. And daylight isn't an issue anyway."

"We need the rest. And the supplies," Maurus replied. As he did, he glanced at the corpses littering the ground, around a hundred fel orcs and lost ones and only a few fel guards and succubi. After the numerous encounters with fully demonic forces, the fight had almost seemed easy, despite the ferocity of the fel orcs.

"You're coddling them. It won't take all afternoon to empty this place and they've got more miles in them," Mathias argued.

Maurus snorted and gave him a flat look. "I dare you to tell that to Saru and Driv," he said. Right on cue, Saru let out a pained and rather spectacular curse, probably from getting the third arrow pulled out of him.

"Every hour we delay-"

Maurus cut him off, his tone hard. "Mathias. We are going at the speed I say, because I judge it to give us the best chances. I should not need to explain this." Mathias grit his teeth but Maurus held his gaze and continued, pitching his voice a little lower: "I don't actually have to either. For whatever reason, they picked me for command and I don't think you want the spot, do you?"

Mathias' pale yellow eyes stared into Maurus' for a moment, before he reluctantly said: "No."

The assent made some of the tension Maurus hadn't even noticed bleed out of him, but the reluctance made him continue, emphasizing the words: "We need the supplies. We especially need the food. You do too, unless you want to join your brethren back there."

Mathias' eyes darted to the western-most hut and horror and hurt flashed across his face before the anger came back and Maurus felt a twinge of regret at his words. Consciously trying to keep both that and the irritation from his voice, he said: "Besides, the warlocks can use the time to triangulate."

That was at least true. The Netherstorm seemed to do what no amount of distance had done, the unnatural winds seemingly obscuring the trail, though thankfully never to the degree that it was lost. That uncertainty was probably one of the reasons Mathias was so on edge, but that knowledge did little to ease Maurus' frustration with him. He was wound tight as well, the responsibility of command weighing heavily on him, made worse by the new delicate food situation. He was painfully aware that they could be forced to turn back if they were unable to raid or the already sparse animals thinned out too much, even if it hadn't been much of an issue yet.

Finally, Mathias looked away and Maurus could see the conscious effort he took to relax, straightening his back from the hunched-over stance he'd slipped into. He took a deep breath, something Maurus still found a little weird, and expelled it in a frustrated huff.

"Fine. Do as you like," he growled. He stood for a moment more before turning to leave and as he began walking, he shot back over his shoulder: "Don't be so sure you'd win the challenge."

Maurus found his mood actually lightening a bit at those words. There was little joviality in them, but they were closer to some of the exchanges he and Mathias usually shared and he was pretty sure Mathias had meant them as such, even if he also believed them.

He stood for a few moments before he walked over to the ravine that was the main entrance to the village and which would have made a normal assault a costly affair. The lookouts that were posted by it saluted him as he approached, with a promptness that still made him feel strange and he nodded in return before sitting down. He took a handful of dark sand from the ground and began cleaning the blood from his axe. For a few moments he watched the blood flake off, revealing the beginning of sigils in the metal and then he raised his head, looking out over the cracked, debris-covered plain.

It seemed to go on forever, a desolate, hostile landscape, rent asunder by the storm that kept tearing at it. The winds were as bad as in Blade's Edge and the bolts of azure and emerald lightning made simply moving in the open a dangerous and frightening endeavor. That animals and people could survive there for prolonged periods of time was simply staggering and Maurus felt a burst of pride that The Torn Wing was doing as well as it was. Behind him, he even heard the trolls begin an easy, slow song as they worked. Normally, he would have tried to hush them, but ever since entering the Blade's Edge, there was no need to keep voices down, because the winds simply ripped away the sounds and roared over them. Maurus doubted anyone not inside the outpost would be able to hear even the loudest of the trolls.

So instead of doing anything about the song, he listened with half an ear as his hands worked.

It had a strange effect on him. On the one hand, the carefree voices were calming to listen to. At the same time, the carefreeness was disturbing him, knowing what work they were doing and especially what he knew they would do with the bodies once they were out of sight. It was disgusting, but practical and as long as he didn't think too much about it, he could live with it. It did, after all, enormously reduce their need to hunt and their use of their raided supplies.

He managed to wrestle his thoughts away from that subject again and just let his mind wander as his he took in the dangerous, but actually quite beautiful scenery. He had become quite good at that during the last few weeks and he hardly thought about why the trolls were always on clean-up, why they took so long or why he had instituted a second looting round after each battle.

"Commander!"

The call snapped Maurus out of his musings and he turned to see Teran hurrying toward him, moving around the tents that were being pitched between the huts. For once his robe and long, blonde hair wasn't the wind's playthings and it was remarkable how much more dignified he looked when they weren't flapping in the wind. But the expression in his pinched, severe face and his rapid walk made Maurus move to meet him. When Teran burst twenty yards forward with a word and a flash of light, past Wiven and six other mages on water duty, Maurus knew it was urgent.

"What is it?" He asked quickly.

Teran whirled on his heels and waved for Maurus to follow as he answered. "We found more lost ones in the tunnels. Non-combatants. Things are a little tense."

Maurus' stomach clenched and he lengthened his stride, making Teran have to run to keep up. He had feared that since they left the main army and for a few moments, his head went blank. He felt only a vague discomfort as the cliff closed over his head, hiding the sky and then his thoughts began moving again.

"Who's in there?" He asked, as Teran guided him down a side passage and the tunnel changed from natural to roughly carved.

Teran rattled off a short list of names, blood elves and orcs, mostly, Thalmir, Slova and Seranna among the most important ones. Maurus nodded in recognition and held up a hand, forestalling any more input from Teran. He took a slow breath and squared his shoulders. He would see them and then make a decision.

A short while of silence later, Maurus heard the quiet murmur that came with a large group. He turned a corner and ducked through a doorway that he wouldn't have seen if Teran hadn't pointed it out to him and found all his blood elves save a handful of mages and maybe half his orcs standing in a dimly lit room. The tension was thick in the air and there was a clear divide in the group, though not along any obvious racial or professional lines and his soldiers still stood close enough to hide the far end of the room from him. Seranna and her red-haired sisters visibly relaxed when they saw him but he spotted both Thalmir and Dromon glare irritably at Teran.

There was a clatter and clang, as sixty fists struck chests and Maurus nodded in response. A few moments passed.

"What did you find?" Maurus asked expectantly, meeting Thalmir's sullen gaze before looking over the blood elves around him. Thalmir was an unpleasant one and his friends did nothing to improve Maurus' overall impression of the blood elves, but they had never really challenged him.

This time was no different. The blood elves parted with obvious reluctance, letting Maurus see a small group in the craggy end of the cavern. Most of them weren't much larger than Widget, small, palely purple, deformed forms huddled beneath ragged cloaks. Despite the hoods, their eyes were visible as small, faintly glowing dots and the long, thin teeth caught the light. At the front were four more lost ones, closer to orc-size. They looked even more hunched over than the others and their features were made even uglier by the countless wrinkles in their skin. All but one among the little group held knives, sticks and other makeshift weapons in unsteady hands and Maurus had seen enough dying lost ones to recognize the fear in their grimaces. With the amount of steel and hostile eyes that were turned their way, it was an understandable one.

Maurus felt his stomach sink and his mouth twisted as bile rose in his throat. Children and elders and judging by their weapons, bruises and pathetic clothing, they had not been treated well.

"Lower you damn weapons," he growled. The lost ones shuddered and huddled closer together, clutching their weapons tighter and he felt a sting of shame. More clearly, he ordered: "Soldiers, weapons down!"

A number of his soldiers had already lowered their weapons, but now the rest of the orcs and Thalmir's men also lowered them. No-one put their weapons away though and despite wanting to, Maurus didn't give that order. He knew how dangerous anything cornered could be.

He stepped forward and despite not being able to huddle much closer, the lost ones did try. Deciding that getting closer wouldn't help, he stopped twenty feet from the closest elder and asked as calmly as possible: "Do you understand Orcish?"

The lost ones looked nervously at each other.

Maurus tried again. "Eredun?"

That got a couple of alarmed sounds from the children and anger glimmered in the eyes of the elders. He held up his hands in surrender and said gently: "Orcish it is then. I hate the Legion. Do you understand?"

This time, the front elder nodded slowly, his eyes full of suspicion. At least, that was what Maurus guessed, the grimace that their teeth pulled their faces into made their expressions hard to read.

Turning his head, he caught Teran's eyes and said: "Get me To'ro. Tell him to take a break. And get ropes."

He heard Teran hurry off as he turned his head back to the now suspicious-looking elder.

"I am Maurus Ragetotem, leader of the Torn Wing, 27th regiment of the Horde Expedition. I-"

"Wait," Thalmir interrupted. Maurus narrowed his eyes and turned to the elf.

"Yes?"

"Don't make a promise you can't keep," he said gravely.

Maurus considered Thalmir for a long moment before asking, his sharp: "So that is why Teran thought he needed to come get me?"

Dromon was the one that answered: "We don't have the time or resources to lug around prisoners."

"I don't plan to lug them around," Maurus answered flatly. Thalmir ignored the tone.

"We-"

"Will be quiet while we wait for To'ro," Maurus snapped and this time, the message was understood. Thalmir's mouth snapped shut so fast that Maurus would have been able to hear if not for the restless murmur around him, but his expression was stormy. Looking back at the elder lost one, who looked a little lost, he slowly and carefully enunciated: "I do not wish to harm you."

If that calmed the lost ones any, they didn't show it. In fact, the small ones squeezed closer together, the ones on the edge of the circle looking very unhappy with their vulnerable positions. The tension was thick in the room and Maurus was dismayed to see the division in his soldiers. With the way they worked on the battlefield, he had begun to hope they would get along better off it. Then again, they was plenty of history to cause division and the stresses of being one of the vanguards weren't doing wonders for anyone's temper. He carefully kept his thoughts from showing on his face, keeping his back straight and his eyes hard as he waited and a few minutes later, To'ro came loping into the room. Ba'ril and San'ji were right behind him and Teran and Mathias came in after the trio, both with brows furrowed in worry or suspicion.

 _'Mathias isn't going to like this,'_ Maurus thought, sighing inwardly. "To'ro," he greeted, nodding at each of the new arrivals in turn.

"Boss," To'ro replied, saluting along with Ba'ril, San'ji and Teran.

"How fast can your riders go to the southern bridge and back?" Maurus asked. He gestured to the lost ones. "With a little extra weight?"

To'ro stood a little straighter, a gleam of pride entering his eyes as he considered the lost ones. "If dey behave?" He held up a hand, all fingers extended. "Three days, max."

Maurus nodded thoughtfully and looked around the room till his eyes fell on a small orc, hidden in layers of dark robes and adorned with so many bone trinkets, teeth and small skulls that he clacked whenever he moved. "We'll stay two. Take Slova, he can lead you back if we've moved."

As To'ro nodded, Maurus saw Mathias step forward but it was Thalmir who spoke first, also closing the distance. "With respect, sergeant, we should not waste time."

There were murmurs of agreement from behind him and Maurus could see sentiment reflected in several faces, Mathias' included.

"We're not," Maurus said flatly, feeling his jaw clench.

"We are not out here to free people," Mathias said.

"We're not here to cut their throats either," Maurus replied coldly, looking from Mathias to Thalmir. "Or to set them out in the storm, that puts them _and_ us at risk. The delay is manageable."

"And the loss of our cavalry is too?" Thalmir challenged. "You'll cripple us for two dozen draenei wretched?

Maurus felt the frustration begin to show on his face and he made no effort to conceal his glare. "We'll have enough scouts left to keep the perimeter and the others will be back soon enough."

"We don't have the luxury of being this soft," Thalmir replied, a sullen burn in his voice. He was now close enough that Maurus could reach out and touch him and he was standing as tall as he could in order to meet Maurus' gaze. "Put down the wretched and let's move on!"

"We have the duty to do right. To act with honor," Maurus growled.

"Do right? by the fel-warped? They're practically demons." Thalmir snorted. "Rutting with a warlock has skewed your-"

Maurus anger blazed white-hot and his hand snapped out, the armored back of his fingers smacking into Thalmir's face and sending him to the ground. Thalmir's eyes were furious when he rolled onto his back, but before he could do anything, Maurus rested his hoof lightly on his sternum, covering much of his chest with his wide hoof. Thalmir gasped at the weight, sending droplets of blood from his nose and mouth into the air and there were several sounds of alarm from his friends.

"Am I soft," Maurus growled, "for holding on to some semblance of decency in this blasted crater of a world?" As his eyes found the discoloration around the lost ones' wrists, images flashed across his inner eye, of shaking, ill goblins, some of them half the size of Widget and of the misshapen red orcs, dead in their cots. His hands remembered the cold weight of little bodies in Duskwood. "My priorities have nothing to do with whom I _rut._ I don't kill children. I don't kill the old." He leaned a bit more weight on Thalmir's chest. "This is not the old Horde. We are not monsters. We kill our enemies, not their victims. If anyone breaks that rule, I will cut off his head and rip out his heart!"

He met eyes of all colors, from pale dead to those that glowed with fel and raised his voice. "Anyone who has a problem with that is welcome to challenge me. Right now!"

The silence fell with the weight of a hammer. Thalmir's friends looked ready for violence, their fingers rippling with the beginning motions of spells but Maurus could see the hesitance in their stances. Mathias was frowning, and his hand was gripping the pommel of his sword so hard that Maurus could see the tension in his arm. No-one held his gaze, though Seranna and her sisters, as well as Slova and Dromon, gave him acknowledging nods.

"Good," Maurus spat. He lifted his hoof off of Thalmir and waved at him as the elf sucked in a relieved breath. "Seranna, fix him. Slova, To'ro!"

The warlock shuffled forward and To'ro took up position beside him.

"Treat them gently. Deliver them safely into the care of the Horde. Don't abandon them unless it is them or you," Maurus said quietly. He looked at To'ro. "I'll have your word, on blood, honor and the Loa."

To'ro's blue eyes were calm. "De word is given."

Satisfied, Maurus looked at Slova. "Swear, on blood and power."

Slova's glowing green eyes, starkly ringed with reddened skin met Maurus' eyes for a long moment. Then he grinned, showing crooked, bestial teeth. "On my power and blood, I will bring the lost ones to the Horde. And us back to you."

Maurus nodded and turned back to the lost ones and in a carefully respectful tone, he said: "Elder. We will bring you to the Horde, on the edge of the Storm. I swear that you have not simply switched abusers if you go to the Horde. But you will need to be bound for the journey."

Again, the lost ones' expressions were hard to read and a short conversation in a language Maurus didn't recognize followed. He waited, absently noting that Seranna was working on Thalmir, and felt a nervousness that seemed disproportional to the situation. He had avoided the worst of it, the tension was seeping from the air and he was the one in control here, so why should he be nervous?

The answer was obvious. He didn't want to use force on the children or the elders. They looked miserable enough without him adding to their indignity.

Finally, the lost ones' conversation ended and the one Maurus had talked to stepped forward, lowering his butcher's knife to the ground and the ones behind him followed his example. His expression was a conflicted grimace and Maurus thought he saw both grief and anger in his eyes. He spoke with a strange accent when he said: "We will go with you, if you give your word. But we will not thank you. You have killed the little ones' fathers and mothers, our daughters and sons."

Maurus swallowed the lump in his throat, thinking of the bodies outside. Now that he thought about it, most of the lost ones had been at the front of the fighting, seeming to be almost driven by the fel orcs and he wondered how many of them bore the marks of shackles. He nodded stiffly. "You have my word that my riders will strive for your safety." Regret entered his voice as he added: "I cannot promise that they will do whatever they can for your survival, but they will not abandon you easily."

It was hard to hold the lost one's gaze, but Maurus managed. "Please tell me your names."

"Udolo," the elder said, his tone warming minutely. He pointed to each lost one in turn, naming them as he went.

"Thank you," Maurus said, nodding at them. "To'ro, you're responsible. Set off as soon as possible. I'm going outside."

He left the room, certain that To'ro would keep anyone from 'fixing' the problem for them in his absence. Ba'ril and several others followed him out, so it was not till he slumped down at the spot Teran had found him that he allowed himself to sigh heavily. He knew how ruthless the forsaken could be, but that ruthlessness was present in both orcs and trolls and the blood elves had gotten the same reputation in less than two decades. Spending his time with Arianna, Wiven and Mathias, who mostly seemed to align with his own views, he had almost forgotten that.

He realized after a while that he was not just admiring the scenery, but rather searching the cliffs for a dark grey wolf and its riders. Missing and worrying about Arianna was one more reason he was on edge and the knowledge that his worry was useless and silly after only three days, was not making it any better. According to Slova, all three of their decoys seemed to be moving with the normal erratic pattern, so it didn't seem that anything had happened.

Then again, the interference of the storm, which at least worked in their favor now that they were staying in one place, did make Slova's assurance a little less comforting.

Looking around, he found himself wishing Widget had come with them. She could probably have pestered him out of the gloom he found himself in, but he could understand and accept her unwillingness to go on such a dangerous mission again. Wiven was busy and also more on edge again and Mathias was probably not someone who would improve his mood right now. So Maurus leaned back on his hands and tried to relax beneath the storming sky.

* * *

Two days passed and despite the nervous restlessness that Maurus felt and saw in the others, he could also see the good the rest did. There seemed to be less snapping and arguing and even Thalmir's elves had assumed a mostly respectful tone, both toward Maurus and toward the rest of the regiment.

Maurus, for his part, had felt the ache from constant movement fade and that, along with Mathias' partially improved mood, made him feel twenty pounds lighter as he stood beside Crava at the edge of the outpost. Behind him, just under three hundred others were packing up the last things, most of the major packing having been done the previous day. Wiven and the other mages were handing out waterskins and Ba'ril's men were securing supplies to the two kodos they had for pack animals.

"Boss."

Maurus turned to Crava as the orc lowered a goblin spyglass from his eye.

"Think she's back," he said, gesturing with the spyglass. Maurus squinted against the slight mist that the winds drove over the valley that morning, seeing nothing. Crava pressed the spyglass into his hand.

"Thanks," Maurus said and raised the small wonder to his eye. In Crava's hands it was small and awkward. In Maurus' it was downright tiny and he fumbled with it a bit before he got a handle on it.

He searched for a few moments, not finding what Crava had found before he pointed out. Two familiar, grey wolves and a dark purple raptor crouched in the shade of a rock the size of a barracks and Maurus could just make out the spot of gold that must be Arianna's hair on one of the four people down there. He found himself smiling, feeling a warmth he'd been missing in his chest, but then he frowned. Arianna had gone out with Druga and Beriga, but now there was a raptor rider with them and they were holding themselves low and still, not coming closer, despite the mostly clear path between the rock and the outpost.

Maurus could think of only one reason to hide, so he raised the spyglass and looked into the distance behind the scouts, expecting to see the indistinct mass of an enemy force or at least a sizeable scouting party.

Something filled the entire lens of the spyglass and for a moment he thought he had let his vision drift to one of the rocks. Fiddling a bit with the spyglass, he managed to zoom out and he sucked in a breath.

A titan of dark green steel strode across the plain in the distance, becoming clearer as it came closer and the mist seemed to burn away around it. It had the proportions of an infernal, with massive piston-like limbs, fists like boulders, a small head and a torso that looked like a furnace burning with fel flame. Massive gears churned as it walked, its every move seeming jerky and abrupt, but its step was solid and it ate up the distance with incredible speed.

With a heart thundering in his chest and the feeling that he could feel the steps of the colossus, Maurus almost absently noted that it wasn't moving directly toward him, but rather east-northeast. Its would not come within a mile of the outpost and the regiment of felguards walking behind it would probably follow it. But it would be just his luck if they decided to resupply by the outpost that he was standing in and even if they could possibly win against the regiment, there was no way they could hurt the thing leaving a trail of foot-deep footprints. Footprints like the ones he had seen before but dismissed as meteor craters or simple sinkholes.

"We are moving!" He roared and he was sure there was a note of terror in his voice. "Leave what you haven't secured. Now!"

"Crava, keep an eye out. Follow when they get within half a mile or when they are gone."

He hesitated for a moment and his eyes found the outcrop that Arianna was hiding by. His throat constricted and he could feel his eyes sting, but with an effort that felt painful, he forced himself to turn around.

He hurried back into the camp as bored routine became frantic scrambling. He snatched up his belongings and made his way to the opposite side of the outpost, where another, mostly hidden path led down an incline onto the western side of the outpost. Mathias and Calen was by his side by the time he passed the western-most hut and with admirable speed, the rest of the torn wing followed them down into the shadow of the cliff.

The cliff that shielded the outpost turned into a jagged rise on that side, one that they followed onto a plain that was much less easily navigated than the one on the east side. But it had the advantage of providing plenty of cover and the Torn Wing spread out to hide as best they could among the ravines and rocky outcrops.

Then they waited. The fear lay heavily on them, choking out any beginning conversation. Maurus stood in the cover of a jagged mound of boulders and found himself missing Widget once again. She had always managed to break tension, if nothing else, then with her nervous chatter. Standing with Calen, Wiven and Mathias, looking carefully for Crava's signal, he could think of nothing to say to ease the heavy atmosphere, no matter how much he longed for it.

The minutes passed in agonizing slowness. Every shift in the skies above made Maurus think Legion flyers were about to come down on him and every flicker of lightning made him fear the impact of mortars. The ground rumbled after maybe five minutes, a subtle vibration that was accompanied by a growl like that of a beast made of stone and it took a few moments before Maurus realized that it wasn't the footfalls of the mechanical giant closing on them but rather one of the earthquakes that frequently rolled through the islands of the Netherstorm. The quaking grew to the point where Maurus had to steady himself and found himself looking worriedly at the rock beside him as pebbles were shaken loose, but then the quake faded again and with it, some of Maurus' unease.

About a quarter of an hour after the descent, Crava appeared on the top of the slope and Maurus breathed a sigh of relief when he raised both arms in a 'v' above his head. A few barked orders and ten minutes later, they were back up at the outpost and Maurus' mood was rapidly improving as he watched Arianna and her companions approach

"What was that thing?" Crava asked after a little while. He sounded a little shaken, but also fascinated. Maurus had never noticed Crava having an interest in engineering and once more, he found it a shame that Widget wasn't with them.

He shrugged, keeping his trepidation from his face. "Legion siege engine. I'd heard rumors, but I really hope the chiefs have considered how to take one of those down."

"I'll say," Crava said. "Didn't know you could scale up the shredder concept to that size."

"I doubt it works without fel magic to cheat," Maurus said. He blinked. _'When did I have that sort of understanding,'_ he thought curiously.

"Probably right," Crava said. Maurus didn't pay much attention, because the four riders had reached them. Arianna was riding behind a pale orc in riding leathers, her hands clasped around his uncommonly thin stomach and Maurus pursed his lips in slight and unreasonable annoyance. Druga was a fast rider and falling from a loping wolf would at best leave one with massive abrasions.

San'ji was the one riding the purple raptor, his leathers grey and purple to match his mount and his hair. Beriga was the one leading the group and she leapt down the instant they reached Maurus, her braids swinging around her scarred face and her kodo-hide boots sending up a cloud of purple dust when she landed. San'ji followed suit, landing in a crouch, then letting himself plop down into a proper sitting position.

Arianna dismounted a bit more carefully and Druga sidled down easily, nodding his bald head at Maurus as he did.

All of them looked tired and tense, but for the moment, Maurus let the joy of seeing Arianna push away his worries. He swept Arianna into a tight hug, basking in the warmth of her soft body and her voice as she quietly said: "Feathers."

"Tomorrow, I promise," he answered, smiling. The exchange was pretty nonsensical, which was kind of the point, but Maurus had no doubt Arianna really did wish for a proper featherbed for once. In that light, it was Maurus' blatantly false promise that was the most nonsensical. He looked at the others and quickly exchanged codes with them, before calling

He led them towards Wiven, who was back to filling a barrel with water. "So, what do you have to tell me? You really ought to have warned us a little quicker of that movement back there."

"We saw them a day and a half ago, but we couldn't move properly. There was too much risk of being seen and then the news would be useless."

Maurus nodded, though he still felt a vague annoyance. The perimeter should have ensured them earlier warning. A bit of guilt crept into his belly. Maybe he hadn't assigned enough scouts and sent away too much cavalry.

He shook the thought away and looked at the worn faces of the four. They had reached the barrel and he picked up a ladle, handing it to San'ji as he asked: "I take it you don't bring good news."

San'ji sighed. Tired, blue eyes met Maurus' and his lips pursed around his tusks, his expression grim. "Not at all," he said darkly. "The Black Temple was empty, a diversion. Zabra'jin, Swamprat, the Cenarion Refuge, all gone. So's the Spawning Glen. Telredor is under siege and the Marshligth Portal is being repaired. The Legion has Zangarmarsh and is spilling over the borders. They played us all for fools."


	26. Reunions

Chasing Through Hell

Reunions

The Legion's sudden counterstrike hung like a heavy cloud over Maurus the following weeks. When San'ji had first reported, he had felt something writhe and gibber in his chest and stomach and it had been hard to breathe. It was more than just the shock of the terrible news, the Legion's retaking of Zangarmarsh had cut Maurus off from Azeroth. He was stranded, separated from his home not just by distance, water and alien magic, but now also by an enemy army and that was far more of an obstacle. Up till this moment, going home had been relatively, at least in his head, and the need for permission from command had not seemed much of a hindrance. It had only been a matter of time and energy. But with the Legion physically barring the way and tightening their grip day by day, the green hills of Mulgore seemed more unreachable than the moons above.

He had only barely kept his composure, in no small part thanks to Arianna's presence and it had taken him more effort than he liked to admit to get back in the right frame of mind to act the leader. And that was necessary, because there was more news.

The lost ones had been delivered and his cavalry on their way back. Reinforcements were on their way to Hellfire and dwarven engineers and night elves were set to harass and slow the Legion in Blade's Edge. But those bright notes were countered by San'ji's report that there was also more activity in southern Terrokar while in Blade's Edge there was both activity in the north and around Death's Door. In reaction, the Horde and Alliance had given up on slowly taking the Netherstom and were now wholly focused on a single goal: To capture Tempest Keep.

There was no word on the specific reason why the Keep was suddenly so important, but Maurus and the others came to the agreement that it wasn't just about taking the Keep out of enemy hands. if what they had heard about the Exodar was true, taking the Keep could be a way to regroup on Hellfire. It was a desperate gamble, but it might be a better option than facing the Legion were on several fronts.

The new goal meant that the Horde and Alliance forces were moving more swiftly into the Netherstorm and with no reason to worry about getting too far ahead, Maurus reluctantly upped the pace of the Torn Wing and despite putting more focus on scouting and raiding, as ordered, they moved quickly across the isles.

Mathias, unsurprisingly, was thrilled with that and Maurus found himself thoroughly irritated at his friend's skewed priorities as they made their way over rumbling ground into the fiercer parts of the Netherstorm.

In fairness to Mathias, it wasn't entirely his fault that Maurus' moods were black. It was a heavy strain, managing the Torn Wing through fast marches and frequent raids and when he had time to think, he often couldn't help thinking that they had played into the Legion's hands from the beginning and that they probably still were. In his worst moments, he wanted to curse the Warchief for taking the bait when the Portal had suddenly opened. He had never asked, but he hadn't heard anything about the initial forays through the reopened Portal and it seemed like it should have been an utterly grueling, brutal battle to take a pass that narrow and which was also inherently destabilizing to attackers. If it had been so bad, the rumors would have spread, which meant it had been easier than it ought to have been.

The suspicion that they were still being played for fools was strong on the morning Maurus looked down at the completely unguarded bridge that led to Isle Coruu, the most south-eastern corner of the Netherstorm. Once again, he was standing in a captured outpost, this one on a shielded bluff in the hills above a wide shelf of craggy ground that looked ready to crumble into the abyss.

That possibility was underscored when the earth rumbled again, the shaking radiating up Maurus' legs and making the pebbles around his hooves dance.

Thankfully, the outpost had contained no lost ones, like most of the places he had chosen for raiding, but there was a whole other problem. The beautifully sculpted building in the cliff behind him, incongruous among the squat, orcish-looking dwellings almost made him regret taking the outpost, but they needed the supplies and he couldn't spare his elves forever. So now he stood and waited as the trolls and undead cleaned up fel orcs, demons and traitor blood elves, putting the latter in a separate dwelling than the former two.

Arianna was leaning against his side, quiet and still and this time, Maurus was sure he wasn't the one taking the most comfort from the touch.

The slow singing behind him was interrupted by a triumphant exclamation, which was followed by a melodious string of words that were unmistakably a curse. Arianna stiffened against him and he swallowed as he turned around.

"Got a live one, Boss," Tu'jan shouted and as expected, the captive he was pulling to his feet was a battered elf to his knees. One of the forsaken, Graeme, was stepping back from the elf, golden light fading from his hands. It seemed the elf was directing his curses mostly at him and Graeme's shriveled face was a mask of neutrality, his eyes as distant as the moon.

Maurus' chest felt tight as he felt the tense muscles in Arianna's shoulder. They had encountered blood elves a few times before, but this was the first time they had captured one alive and he almost wished they hadn't. He squeezed Arianna's shoulder before stepping away and waving at Tu'jan, who with the help of Zilja pulled the elf toward him. As they approached, he waved Calen and Slova over, noting as he did that the elf was dressed in red robes, in a cut he had begun to recognize as common to elf mages. When the elf was thrown down in front of him, he let one hand hang free and made sure he was within arm's reach.

"I see a speck of light and I take off your hand. You say something I don't understand, I take out your tongue," Tu'jan growled, having apparently had the same thought.

The elf just glared up at Maurus. His eyes were bright and a glance left and right, at Calen and Arianna, confirmed that they were glowing far more than theirs. Another difference was the redness around his eyes, an irritation that reminded Maurus of the discoloration that was around Slova's eyes.

"I am Maurus Ragetotem," he said, keeping his voice calm despite the anger smoldering in his chest. "What is your name?"

The elf's face scrounged up in disgust and he spat at Maurus' hooves. Tu'jan immediately smacked the back of his head, throwing his messy hair into his face. Maurus carefully kept the discomfort from his face, painfully aware of Arianna's presence beside him.

"Answer him, traitor," Calen said, his voice as cold as ice.

The elf gave a bitter laugh as he raised his head. "The King will rip your souls from your bodies. He offered you paradise and you chose to scrabble in the dirt with savages and dead men."

Maurus' jaw clenched and his hand snapped out, cuffing the elf across the chin. When the elf went sprawling to the ground, he clenched the fingers he had used into a fist, feeling sick. They had caught prisoners before and interrogated them, but this was the first time he had had to deal with an elf and knowing how it hurt Arianna to see him made his anger grow quicker than he had expected.

As Tu'jan picked the elf up again, Maurus blew out a frustrated breath. "Changed my mind," he said. He caught the eyes of Tu'jan, Slova and Calen in turn. "Give him a tour, then take him to the elf dwelling. Find out what he knows."

Maurus caught confusion in the elf's eyes as he was dragged off. He probably didn't know whether to be triumphant or terrified.

Zilja gave him a questioning look and he waved a hand at her. "Do what you like."

She aluted before following the others and when she was out of earshot, Maurus heaved a sigh and turned around. In truth, he was relieved to hand over the task to someone else. He really had no stomach for interrogation. Or, more accurately, the ease with which he took to the violent part of it disturbed him, because striking someone unable to fight back offended his honor. He had managed it with the fel orcs and the demons, finding that their demonic appearance made him feel less guilty, but with someone who looked so much like his allies, the guilt hit him full force even while his anger drove him toward violence.

The anger he felt toward the traitor elf flared up as he looked at Arianna and felt a stab in his chest. With everyone around occupied with their tasks, she had let her mask of indifference fade and her face, already pale, was drawn with misery.

Maurus stepped over to her and drew her into his arms. It was only in these rare moments, when she melded against him in pained silence, that she felt as small in his arms as he rationally knew she was.

"I wish I could say something to make this better," Maurus said after a while of silence. He heard the ghost of a growl in his voice and winced internally, but Arianna didn't react to the sound. With no idea what else to do, he kept quietly speaking: "The only real betrayal I've felt was about Sowa and Tuga and I had already begun to distance myself from them when you made me realize what their intentions were. So I don't know what you're feeling."

Arianna took a slow breath and with half-hearted dryness said: "Sorry about that."

Maurus felt his expression ease into milder folds at her words and the sting of the memory and Arianna's pain shrank. "Educating someone is never cause for an apology," he said gently, rubbing a finger along her bare neck.

"Good," Arianna said, in the same half-hearted tone she had used before. "Wouldn't want to have to apologize to you all the time."

That made the corners of Maurus' mouth turn up in a small smile. "That would get tedious," he agreed. More seriously, he asked: "Will you be alright?"

With her head nestled beneath his, he felt her nod. "They've abandoned all that they were," she said, reciting words she had said before in a mantra-like cadence, her voice gained heat with every syllable. "They've lost their minds and joined the Legion."

The earth rumbled in the short pause before she pushed herself back so she could look Maurus in the eye. Despite the eye contact, he knew the words were more for herself than him when she added, voice filled with a mix of hot anger and wavering sadness: "Rabid animals must be put down."

Maurus looked at her determined expression, ignoring the hint of moisture in the corners of her eyes. For a few moments he was silent before nodded. "You are strong," he said soberly. "I always admire that, despite your unfortunate predilections."

As he spoke, Arianna's expression went from proud to pleased before settling on playfully offended and Maurus smiled wider, pleased at her reaction. There were still stormy emotions just under the surface, but for now, she wasn't completely miserable.

Looking back toward the camp, Maurus saw Mathias approaching and rolled his eyes.

"Looks like something can always be counted on," he murmured tiredly.

Arianna followed his gaze and her hand fell to the bone dagger on her hip. Matching his tone, she agreed.

* * *

The tour for the traitor elf paid off. It was a trick that had worked once before, dragging a captive through their outpost while keeping a close eye on him, letting him betray any secrets with furtive glances. A map and a stack of documents were found before the disposed of the elf and Ba'ril, Thalmir and a handful of trolls and elves made sense of the findings in short order. Their conclusion was surprising, though in tune with what little information they had gleaned before. The enemy forces were withdrawing, abandoning holdings to congregate on Isle Duro, in the valley beneath Tempest Keep. They had even abandoned Sunfury Hold, the blood elf garrison on the northern edge of Isle Coruu that they could finally put a name to.

Once again, his suspicions were raised, but there was no denying that the wake of a withdrawing army was close to the ideal environment for raiding and tracking Ven'Zarul, so despite his misgivings, they crossed the bridge the following afternoon, leaving pyres burning to point out the outpost to the Horde that would follow.

He was pleasantly surprised to find the bridge in full working order, because with what he had seen in Ashenvale, collapsing a bridge under the enemy seemed both sensible and likely.

In the following week, the abandoned bridge made more sense, because it seemed they weren't the first Horde force coming this way. Several times they came across trails from warbands and judging by the animal footprints he could make out, the paw and claw prints were from wolves and raptors and the wide, round ones were from kodos.

They stopped seeing those signs soon enough though, because the trails of Horde went east and south while Ven'Zarul's pointed north-east, ensuring that the Torn Wing kept the northern edge of Isle Cooru. The opportunities for raiding died out as they skirted the edge of a massive maze of ravines and sharp ridges, but the plentiful warpstalkers, basilisks and mana wyrms kept them fed, if barely.

Almost two weeks later, the land on their left flattened out, allowing them to see across the gorge to Isle Duro. There was only a small ledge on the opposite side before the land rose steeply into massive cliff faces that reached into the fiercely crackling sky. It was a thin mountain range, the remains of true mountains that had crumbled into the Nether over the years and it ran like a purple, thunder-rent wall along the entire south edge of the isle.

According to the maps, similar mountains protected the north side of the isle and the valley between them contained Tempest Keep. The alien fortress was anchored close to Manaforge Duro, floating over a plain open to the stormy abyss to the east and the crumbling isles to the west.

When Arianna checked their course, Maurus was not even surprised that it looked like they were going straight toward the eastern-most pass, the one closest to the Keep. His lack of surprise didn't do anything for the fear he felt at the prospect though.

A day's worth of travel brought them to another bridge and this time, the bridge was not unguarded. It was allies around the bridge though. They had been able to see the smoke from pyres from far away and when they got closer, they saw what the scouts had reported. Scattered around the bridge was a large group of orcs and trolls, as well as a handful of forsaken, surrounded by their bats and wyverns. Most of them were on the northern side of the bridge, setting up tents and starting cookfires, but a few were on the same side as the Torn Wing while three of them were flying around the bridge.

Maurus raised a hand and hollered a greeting when he came within earshot, getting a lazy wave to approach.

Maurus struck his fist to his chest and introduced himself, Arianna and Mathias when he stopped in front of the orc that had waved at him. She was slight for an orc, and had her hair cropped short. Her face was covered in thin scars and her lips were so dry that he could see cracks in them when she grinned at him.

"Windwarrior Shroku Swiftstrike, leader of this lot," the orc answered, her eyes running up and down him before moving to Arianna and Mathias at his sides. "The Torn Wing?"

Maurus looked back and saw that Drim was raising the banner in the middle of where the 27th was settling for camp. That they were doing it without his order at maybe half-way between noon and evening made him realize they were really beginning to know his way of leading. Turning back to Shroku, he nodded.

Her grin got a little wider and she held out a hand to the orc beside her, who reluctantly fished a gold hammer from her belt and put it in Shroku's hand. Maurus raised an eyebrow.

"Saw you flying over. Bet that you would be the first ones here," she said. Glancing at the orc at her side she added dryly: "Not exactly a longshot seeing as the others went the wrong way."

That got an irritated grunt from the orc and Mathias hummed in interest as Maurus felt his lips quirk into a smirk.

Shroku lead them to a dark hide tent raised on the south side of the bridge. Tension flowed out of his shoulders as he stepped in and he blinked as he realized just how much of a relief it was to speak to a Horde member not from the Torn Wing again.

"How's the war?" he asked.

Shroku raised a hand and wobbled it from side to side, grimacing slightly. "Things are bad around Zangarmarsh. Hellfire is secure, Terrokar is a two-front battle. Nagrand's alright. Blade's Edge's bad, Death's Door broke the siege and has cut our forces in two. Progress is good here, at least. Got a hold on some isles and manaforges. We are not touching them though, whatever the goblins say, we have no idea how they work. The other warbands seem to have a handle on this isle, though the manaforge is holding out and Sunfury is suspiciously quiet."

For a few moments, Maurus was silent, digesting the lightning briefing and carefully not looking at Arianna to see how she had reacted to the mention of the weird structures her kin had erected in the Netherstorm. The news were better than he had feared but worse than he had hoped. His first thought was that it was a shame they hadn't simply destroyed the mana forges, because he could not fathom how anything good could come of the flood of violet energy he had seen going through the pipes they had passed. But then again, he could understand the need for caution.

He managed to gather his thoughts and gestured to Arianna, who placed the maps and lists they had found on the table. Shroku pulled them toward her and skimmed them before pushing over to her two companions. A short while later, they exchanged a few quiet words with Shroku and when she turned her attention back to Maurus, she nodded in approval.

"That's more support on what we've gathered. Nice to know that Sunfury is empty and that the warbands aren't going into a trap."

Maurus felt a small swell of accomplishment in his chest and stood a little straighter despite the low canopy. "Many warbands here?" He asked.

"Five, other than you, from what we saw. Will be quite a few more when the flanking force gets here."

He nodded and waved a hand in the vague direction of the bridge. "Can we pass soon? And what are you doing?"

"Peeling the dynamite off the bridge supports and cables."

Despite knowing he was in no danger, Maurus felt his stomach flip as he was confronted with the exact thing he had feared before.

"And no, you can't."

Out the corner of his eye, Maurus saw Mathias take a half-step forward, his stance becoming more slouched.

"Mathias," Maurus snapped, and the irritation in his voice wasn't entirely because of his friend. As Mathias stepped back, he asked: "What?"

"There's a general halt on movement while we secure the isle, though I'm guessing we'll move sooner after the report on Sunfury. The flanking force is gathering here and we were supposed to make anyone we met wait for them.

"I don't know if you've heard, but we have other orders than the other raiders and scouts," Maurus said. The amount of frustration he heard in his own voice was surprising, but then again, Arianna had sworn that they were getting very close just an hour earlier, gaining a firmer fix on Ven'Zarul than she had had in a month.

"Didn't hear about any exceptions," Shroku said. There was nothing in her voice that showed that she'd noticed Maurus' tone and he didn't see indecision in her eyes. He looked at Mathias and Arianna, but they both reluctantly shook their heads, apparently not able to think of anything to add either.

"Guess we'll have a break then," Maurus sighed.

"A lot of people would appreciate that, after the move you've made," Shroku said neutrally.

Maurus snorted, almost in unison with Mathias, though where Mathias' snort was pure frustration, Maurus' was half-amused. That had almost sounded like a compliment.

He looked back, out through the tent flap and up toward the mountains. He could just see the pass a little off to the right of the bridge, a jagged scar down through the wall of purplish rock and for just a moment, he was back in Ashenvale, in the moments before he entered Demonfall Canyon. He remembered the worry and the lack of confidence he had felt then and decided that maybe Shroku was right. Time to prepare was probably a good thing.

With that in mind, he glanced at the orc Shroku had won gold from. "I've got some coins to make up for your loss, if you'll wrangle up a few flyers to do a bit of scouting for me." He glanced at Shroku: "If you'll allow it of course."

Shroku pursed her lips, the expression drawing attention to the fangs at the sides of her mouth.

"You're as stuck here as we are, I guess," Maurus added. "This way, you waste less time and the wyverns get some movement."

Shroku tilted her head to one side in acknowledgement. "I guess. Interested, Lora?"

Lora nodded and grinned, showing a lot of sharp teeth. "I've got a few who'll be interested. Depending on the price and the task."

Maurus restrained a wince. He was scraping the bottom of what he had earned since Ashenvale and he doubted the services of windriders would be cheap. He turned to Arianna. "You certain where he is?"

Arianna gave him a look of mock offense. "I've got a bead on him now. If we can borrow a windrider, I think I can confirm it, but even without it, I'm almost certain he is on the eastern side of the pass."

Lora chuckled. "Half the trolls will give you a ride for free. I'll find one that isn't doing it to drop you. That doesn't require more than one though."

Maurus felt his eyes narrow. "No. I want you to find all cave entrances west of the pass. Well, within reasonable distance. If you can find paths up the eastern side, that'll be appreciated too."

"That's something else," Lora said. Glancing at her superior, she asked: "Shroku?"

Shroku looked conflicted for a moment. "If you're enough to take care of yourselves, it's fine," she said reluctantly. "Not that different from where I was sending you anyway."

"You just had to ruin it, didn't you?" Lora groaned and Maurus smirked.

"Can't be that expensive then," he said and received a glare and a half-hearted display of teeth. "Let's figure it out."

After a round of haggling that left Maurus poorer than he had hoped, he went back toward the Torn Wing's camp with Arianna and Mathias in tow.

"Why east caves?" Mathias asked. "We know where he is."

Maurus stopped looking around for To'ro and turned his gaze to his friend. A small smile appeared on his face and once more he felt absurdly pleased that he had thought of something before his more experienced companions.

"I think Zarul's figured it out by now. He won't be where the important business in the pass is and there'll be bad things in store in the pass. It is too convenient to not be a trap."

"True," Arianna agreed and Mathias nodded, waving a hand for Maurus to continue.

Maurus paused beside Wiven, who passed him a filled waterskin. He smirked at Mathias' and Arianna's expressions as he took a long drink before answering: "This reminds me of Demonfall Canyon. And with all the gunpowder we've suffered under, I think he'd like to drop a cliffside on those passing through the canyon. We can't have that."

Arianna nodded, though there was a hint of worry in her expression. "Reasonable. But if he knows we can find him, he might just stay with the most important forces?"

"Double bluffs are a thing," Mathias agreed. "At the very least, he'll be ready to be found."

"I know," Maurus replied, shrugging. Before he could continue, he noticed Wiven's expression change, his eyes growing brighter and his lips spreading into a smile.

Hearing rapid footsteps, Maurus turned, just in time to see something black, green and slightly red slow down just enough to not hurt itself when it hugged his armored leg.

"Hi, Boss," Widget chirped, looking up at him with a face that seemed all happy, toothy grin.

"Widget," Maurus answered, his mouth spreading into a wide, warm smile. His hand found her head, engulfing her uneven mess of red hair and he stubbornly maintained his smile even when he touched her mangled ear and felt a sting in his chest.

Her expression fell for an instant too, but the grin returned immediately as she looked around. "Elf, Dead Guy."

"Snot stain," Mathias replied.

"Widget," Arianna greeted politely, but there was a glint of warmth in her eyes.

"What are you-" Maurus began, but trailed off as Widget disentangled herself from him and walked over to Wiven. Maurus' brows rose when she hugged Wiven and he actually gracefully returned the hug, his seated position making the hug much less mismatched than they usually looked.

"Good to see you," Wiven said pleasantly as Widget stepped back. "I did not expect to see you out here."

Widget looked around and Maurus saw her throat move as she swallowed. There was a bit of forced nonchalance in her voice when she said: "When you left, I came to the conclusion that you can't be without your personal sapper." She pointed a finger at a wyvern standing a little further back, its rider scratching its mane vigorously. "So I hitched a ride when I heard what these guys were doing."

Maurus felt the warmth in his chest grow. He had really missed his little friend and he took it as a great sign that she had wanted to return to the Torn Wing. He considered the cliffs again and nodded. "You're right, you'll be great help for what comes next."

"That sounds ominous," Widget said. Despite her apparent best efforts, there was a note of real fear both in her words and in her wide eyes.

Maurus pointed toward the pass. "Zarul is up there. So are probably a trap and a load of explosives like in Ashenvale. We're going after all of it."

This time, Widget didn't even try to hide the nervousness in her grin or the real worry in her voice when she said: "You know he knows we're coming right?"

Arianna and Mathias smirked as Widget got straight to the point her arrival had interrupted.

Maurus shrugged again. "He'll have a trap for us. But playing 'he knows we know he knows' won't do anything but confuse us. Unless the scouts or the sergeants convince me, I'm going with the simple plan."

"Okay," Widget said and the nod she gave seemed mostly for her own benefit. There was still fear in her voice but it was obvious she was trying to rein it in.

Maurus looked around. "Any ideas to improve our chances are of course welcome."

He blinked when he saw the expressions around him. Arianna's eyes were proud and confident, confident in _him_ he realized and Wiven and Widget showed the same confidence, even if it was balanced by a shade of worry.

Mathias eyes shone and there was an almost hungry expression on his face and Maurus felt his lips stretch into a grin, again feeling the fluttery mix of fear and excitement in his belly, something that vaguely matched Mathias' feelings. "When Zarul springs his trap, we'll just have to turn it around again. He's ours this time."


	27. Ploys in the Peaks

Chasing Through Hell

Ploys in the Peaks

Maurus slid the whetstone down the blade of his axe. The slight resistance trembled up his hand and the scrape just barely reached his ears, two familiar sensations he warmly welcomed. The weapon itself was still a little unfamiliar and not just because its shape and weight was a little different to his old axe. As the light from the alien sky and fires around him played over its surface, it caught in the whorls and lines Arianna had inscribed on it and even when shadow fell over the head, the faintest hint of green showed in the runes.

The familiarity of the movement and the gentle reminder of Arianna's presence in his life was calming, something he appreciated. He'd woken from a nightmare of wading through stagnant water, the people around him vanishing in flashes of lightning and the jitters he had felt when he woke had worsened as the hours passed and the others from the Torn Wing began to wake. He should have been ravenous, but instead he felt queasy. He should have been tired, but instead he felt a restless quivering in his muscles and an alertness that made him all too aware of the slow passage of time. To most, he probably looked as calm as could be, but the tingling nerves in his body were almost as bad as when he had faced a centaur raid for the first time, an electric mixture of fear and excitement.

The land around him seemed to reflect his mood. The land rumbled with a constant nervous tremor and after a dramatic lightning storm past the mountains to the north, the storm had quieted, as if it was holding its breath.

In the relative quiet, he could hear the low noise of the slumbering camp, a constant murmur of people, beasts, fire and metal. What had begun as a small gathering of the Torn Wing and the windriders had grown to a sizable camp, now on the north side of the bridge, as the raiders gathered and a full regiment, the 18th, joined them.

He hadn't shared it with anyone, but it had been a huge comfort when the reinforcements had arrived, providing them with more safety than they had had for the last long while. Today though, the noise of more than the thousands of people and beasts was making him nervous instead. These were the people he was securing the way for and he desperately hoped he would succeed.

At the very least, they weren't alone in that task. A group of Frostwolves was going for the western side of the pass along with a third of the Torn Wing, so he wasn't shouldering all of the responsibility.

A rustle behind him broke him out of his circling thoughts and he looked back just in time for Arianna to lean forward and meet his lips in a brief kiss.

"Good morning, Love," Arianna said quietly, settling herself beside him. As she did, Maurus brushed his fingers through her hair, which hung loose around her face instead of in its usual tail.

"Morning," he replied, smiling faintly but unable to keep sigh from his voice. "You made it better."

The corner of her mouth quirked. "I have that effect," she said mock-haughtily. She looked at the mace, the shield and the pile of armor laid out in front of them and the axe Maurus had lain beside him. All of it was gleaming in the low light, more meticulously taken care of than it had been in months. She turned her eyes back to him.

"Worried?"

"Honestly, I'm scared," he said, pitching his voice so low that only Arianna could hear it.

"You've gotten more honest," Arianna replied. She moved closer and Maurus wrapped and arm around her so she could lean against his side.

"I've decided that honesty will improve our chances," he said amiably.

Arianna hummed quietly. "I can't say I'm unafraid either. I have not been in a battle even close to this size since the Exodus."

Her gaze grew distant, her eyes staring through rather than at the mountains. "I would never have thought I would be fighting against the ones who left."

"I'm sorry," Maurus replied quietly.

A few moments passed before Arianna spoke, sounding weary: "It is what it is."

"Still," Maurus said, pulling her into his lap and resting his head on her hair as she relaxed against him.

He drank in her warmth and her smell and gazed at the quiet activity in the camp around him. Mathias and Calen were sitting a short distance away, donning their armor. They were complete opposites, gold and red armor and healthy skin next to black metal and pallid flesh, but their postures were almost identical, only differentiated by Mathias' simmering impatience.

A little further away, Drim looked critically down the edge of his blade before nodding in satisfaction. Tu'jan and Rilli sat beside him, taking turns rolling a pair of bone dice and judging by Rilli's expression, Tu'jan was winning.

Close by the fire, Shayla and Drunnya sat in silence, eyes intent on a pile of small bones lying between them. Crava, Zilja and several others were standing just a little two close to the two shamans for it to be a coincidence and the covert glances toward Drunnya and Shayla told Maurus that there was quite a bit of interest in the divination.

His gaze wandered over the rest of his unit. Taka was shoveling food into his mouth and Dromon and Go'vi were arguing amiably, while Zrahi sat beside them, absently throwing her axe into the air and catching it.

Finally, after passing over many more of his soldiers either relaxing or preparing, his gaze returned to those closest on him, falling on Wiven and Widget, sitting a little off to his left. They were both already dressed for battle, Wiven in thick robes and gloves, Widget in leather and mail, but what caught Maurus attention was on the hand Wiven held out to Widget. Over his palm, flame flickered, no larger than a candle flame. His eyes were bright and when Widget drew back a little, he raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Widget hesitated for a moment before narrowing her eyes, a stubborn line coming into her jaw. With a quick motion, she brought her small hand down on Wiven's, extinguishing the flame.

Wiven closed his fingers around her hand and gave her a proud smile that was warmer than most Maurus had seen him give and Widget answered it with a toothy, if nervous, smile.

Maurus felt a warm pride stir in his chest. He could sense the tension in the air, but almost none of his soldiers looked like they were about fight in one of the largest battles of the war, playing a hugely important role. No-one let the fear consume them and more than fear, he could see the determination in the studied looks of carefreeness and boredom. He looked down at his armor and took a deep breath.

"It's time."

He donned his armor and it seemed to serve as a cue, activity spreading out from him like waves even before he gave the order to get ready. Those not already in armor donned theirs. Fires were put out, cooking pots scraped clean of the last morsels, equipment was checked one last time and in what felt like no time at all, the Torn Wing was marching toward the mountains.

They crossed the plain without incident, the only sign of the enemy being indistinct forms of succubi. They were quite close when Maurus spotted them, but they retreated quickly, making Maurus consider them scouts rather than a real threat.

As they began the climb up the steep paths, they were overtaken by a large group of windriders, led by Shroku. Maurus was awed and mildly incredulous as he saw the windriders fly up the slope, quiet and so close to the rocks and outcrops that a single mistake or an errant gust of wind would smash them against the mountain. None of them crashed though and they all quickly passed out of sight, not far from where Maurus had lost sight of the succubi. If the windriders were successful, the demons would lose many eyes, giving them far more freedom of movement.

Thinking of things he hoped would surprise the demons, he looked back. He noted in passing that they had climbed surprisingly far as he looked down the slope and found the Frostwolf contingent. They were already half-way to the mountains and as he watched, they changed direction toward the west and the tunnels Shroku had found there.

Further out, he could see that the camp was coming properly awake, a stirring ant hill from this high and it reminded him of their limited time. He turned his gaze forward again and focused on moving and looking for enemies, his sense of urgency and nervousness lending his legs speed.

* * *

They climbed for hours, switching between following paths and cutting between them where possible, weighing speed against making their route confusing. It might have worked or maybe the enemy just wasn't much interested in them, because they didn't encounter any resistance on the ascent, though they did dodge a suspicious number of rock slides. Finally, as the camp behind them was shrinking and the tiny figures formed into formations, they crested the mountain. They passed slowly through a short tunnel along a peak and came out on a ledge overlooking the valley.

Maybe a mile or two to the east, the valley crumbled away into a terrifyingly open vista of the storm, which swirled and flashed with flickers of lightning. To the west, the valley opened to the central isles of the Netherstorm and to the north, another row of mountains rose from the valley floor, scarred and crumbling and even more worn down than the mountain range Maurus stood on.

Seeming almost at Maurus' eye level were the four bastions of Tempest Keep. The three smallest wings of the Keep looked like a massive, squat ships, made of pale stone and luminous crystal. The underside of the structures were smooth and it was mostly their shape, wide and rounded on one end and tapering toward a point, a "prow", at the opposite end, that gave the vessels their ship-like air. The structure rising from the "hull" reminded Maurus a little of elven architecture, but the resemblance ended where natural, jagged crystal rose from the marble and where crystals protruded from the strangely patterned hulls like barnacles on a ship.

Each of the three structures glowed with its own color, pale sapphire blue, ephemeral lilac and blooming scarlet respectively and strings of lightning in those colors intermittently leaped from the structures to the part of the Keep floating between them, the bolts of lightning turning purple as they joined the flickering web of electricity running over the central structure.

That structure was nicknamed "The Eye", for how it had looked to the high-flying scouts who had managed to return. Unlike the other parts of the Keep, it bore no resemblance to a ship. Instead, it was a round fortress wrought in purple, white and blue marble and except for the tendency toward smooth and rounded lines, there was nothing remotely elvish about the architecture. Gate-like structures rose from the rounded wall at six points, each composed of two hornlike pieces of darker purple stone and a terrace of the same, oddly patterned material as the other structures ran around the structure.

From within the massive ring-wall a tower rose into the air, making up the better part of the entire structure's height. It became wider with height, especially where the cold colors of the tower gave way to reddish-brown columns. They flowed out from the tower, climbing its sides before separating, forming a sort of crown around the rune-engraved top of the tower.

In sharp contrast to its beautifully built upper part, the lower part of the Eye, what the fortress rested on, was a rough, irregular mass of the same patterned material the other "hulls" was composed of. Like them, it was dotted with crystals, but in much larger quantity, making it almost look like the crystals were replacing the original material. They glowed a bright, pulsing purple, the same as color as the wide stream energy that stretched from the bottom of the Eye to the manaforge underneath it.

Compared to Tempest Keep, the manaforge looked squat and dark. It was half-hidden from Maurus' view by the foot of the mountain, seeming almost to hide in the shadow of the mountain range, but what he could see of it mostly resembled a stylized, symmetrical claw or a strange beak, pointed at the sky and sending aetheric energy from pipes in its sides directly up into Tempest Keep.

It seemed strange how still Tempest hung in the air, not even swaying the least bit in the fierce winds, but rather looking as immovable in the air as if they rested on solid stone. Only the energy flickering over the structures gave them any semblance of movement.

It was a stark contrast to the valley floor. The valley was a riot of color and metal and light, from fires, skin, armor and siege engines and even from here, he could hear a low rumble, though whether it was from battle or the trembling earth, he couldn't tell. Off to his left, at most a few miles away, the cold blues and purples of the Alliance waved not far from the brooding reds and browns of the Horde, clashing against the fiery banners of the Legion and their elven allies.

Towering over the armies were five of the horrifying demonic machines he had seen earlier, the hulking, felsteel behemoths, looking as unbreakable as mountains. The fel reavers were positioned in a loose circle around the manaforge, which meant that two of them were pretty close to the canyon and that fact made Maurus' heart sink.

Finally, fluttering over the army were hundreds of flyers, looking like locusts waiting for a feast at this distance.

The scope of the battle suddenly became something real to Maurus and he fear and doubt suddenly made him feel faint. There were so many down in the valley that it beggared belief, demons, elves and all the races of the Horde and Alliance, making demon camp he had seen in the Barrens after Demonfall Canyon seem like a raiding party.

Despite the scope and his reaction, he still took it all in in a few moments, before he fixed his attention on a closer point. A ways down the slope, a few turns of the path or a couple of sharp drops down, he saw the enemy. There were a number black catapults and the greenish steel of demon mortars glinted among the disparate forms of demons and fel orcs. The catapults and the heavier mortars were all pointed at the opposite side of the canyon, where an overhang of rock hundreds of feet wide suddenly looked thin and fragile to Maurus.

 _'Of course there would be contingencies,_ ' Maurus thought grimly. _'It_ did _seem too easy._ '

He had more immediate concerns though. The ledge they were coming out on was very exposed and the demons had already spotted them. Felguards and fel orcs stood three ranks deep where the slope reached the plateau while the gan'arg and mo'arg were gathering around their mortars. A great number of imps were spread out around the outskirts of the artillery position, well away from the mortars and catapults, while succubi and fiends were scattered throughout the force.

Finally, Maurus felt a surge of terror and anger as he saw the familiar form of Ven'Zarul, one-winged, one-horned, looming behind the felguards and he could have sworn he felt his gaze lock with the dreadlord's.

What he certainly felt was the tension around him and he saw Mathias fall into his most aggressive stance in front of him.

"Give us cover!" Maurus shouted at Te'kan, breaking into a run and shouting for the rest to follow and spread out. As he did, he heard the quiet thrum of bowstrings and the harsher twangs of crossbows and saw several mo'arg engineers drop while most of the survivors scurried away like rats to avoid the next volley.

Maurus' heart was in his throat as three hundred feet and hooves pounded down the rocky incline. The arrows and bolts of Te'kan's men bought the Torn Wing a little time, but the mo'arg were already bellowing at their smaller cousins to get back to the mortars and Maurus doubted that the only enemy was in front of him. The high ground Te'kan was making good use of was simply too advantageous for the enemy to have left unguarded by accident.

When he reached the first turn of the path, he glanced up and as he had feared, he saw demons on the ledge above Te'kan. A number of felguards were dropping down in front of the tunnel even then, halting the volleys, while gan'arg remained above. Their mortars were fixed in place and the widest part of the path, which Maurus was about to reach, had to be their target.

The demons didn't get the chance to fire though. Braga's men appeared from the rocks above the gan'arg, skin, leathers and weapons all covered in dust and dirt and Maurus bared his teeth as surprised shrieks tumbled down toward him. Taking it slow so Braga could go over rather than through the tunnel had been the right choice.

A dull boom made Maurus heart leap into his throat and his stomach constrict, but he realized a heartbeat later that the explosion echoed up from the canyon and that there was nothing amiss in the front rank. His stomach did squirm an extra time though, his mind immediately filled with visions of the flanking force being buried under mounds of rock, but the absence of more explosions told him that it wasn't the full trap had sprung.

"Maurus!" Two voices shouted in unison, from his right and from right behind his head.

"Isn't that-" Arianna continued.

"Look ahead!" Widget said at the same time, shifting her weight on Maurus' back and her gun entered his field of vision, aimed at the patch of ground ahead.

Maurus' heart leapt into his throat again as he noticed the churned-up ground and recalled Demonfall Canyon.

"Stop!" He roared. "Cut the corner. Go right, down the cliff."

For a few moments, he was the only one veering right, but with another shout, his soldiers reacted. In front, he saw Mathias, Calen and the others struggle to slow down and go toward the edge.

He wrapped Arianna in his arms as he jumped down the steep slope. There was a rush of sound as gravel was dislodged by all the soldiers on the slope and he had to fight to stay upright as he slid down toward the lower path. As he struggled, he saw the flash of a mortar firing and icy dread gripped his heart. His eyes searched desperately for the projectile, but he didn't spot it before it detonated behind and to the left of him.

An almost sustained crack of sound hit Maurus as the corner they had barely avoided, as well as a part of the path, erupted in an explosion of deadly force and jagged rock.

Maurus' hooves hit the path lower down among a lot of his unsteady soldiers, stumbling forward and he dared hope that the three screams signified that they had avoided the worst of the mines.

"Healers, ease the fall. Casters, fire up the lower corners!" he shouted, moving forward to take the next drop rather than risk the suspicious next corner as the first crumbled down to his left.

He saw gold and green light bloom in the edges of his vision as he stepped off the path again, still holding Arianna. She was utterly still in his arms, though he heard her utter a vicious-sounding word while Widget shrieked into his ear and Ash's growl was audible as he slid down beside him.

Fire and lightning flared out on both sides of him and more thundering booms sounded as two of the turns further down exploded.

He crashed down a level lower, feeling hot pain flare up through his shins and turned toward a demolished corner, not risking the much longer fall past the path, shouting at the others to follow. The air, already alive with the sound of shouts and movement, became even denser as the mortars began firing sporadically and Maurus' heartbeat began to thunder in his ears.

It felt like the descent took hours, hours of feet and hooves pounding on treacherous footing with the terrible fear of a sudden explosion lending them speed, but finally, Maurus leapt down along Mathias and the other front-rankers as the casters loosed their first barrage against the felguards.

His grip around his axe was white-knuckle tight and his blood boiled with rage even before he felt the blood-quickening influence of the shaman's magic. He roared along with the others as they gathered in a wedge aimed at the felguards, feeling almost as if he was being drawn toward the demons, his gaze fixing on the pulse at their necks. The feeling only increased when Widget's gun barked and blood sprayed from the ruined head of a fel orc.

The demons and fel orcs met the Torn Wing's charge with a torrent of flame and a deranged, throat-tearing roar. Maurus crashed through flame that made the runes on his armor glow in response and felt a surge of exhilaration when he realized that Arianna's runes stole the heat from the flames, leaving him merely uncomfortably warm, rather than burnt.

Judging by the relative lack of screams around him, his soldiers weathered the flame pretty well too, but he had no time to worry about that as he reached the enemy. A massive fiend slashed both axes down toward him and it took all his skill and speed to deflect the blows.

The tell-tale shadowy tendrils of Arianna's magic reached out before the demon could recover and it visibly staggered, seeming uncertain of its own weight.

Maurus took advantage, as did both Calen and Mathias. Hammer and sword smashed into kneecap and hand respectively and Maurus' axe came down on the demon's arm.

To his surprise, he sliced through muscle and bone with more ease than ever before and he almost overbalanced as the demon stumbled back, howling. As a blast of fire struck the demon, making it fall over into its allies, he managed to recover, just in time to slam the knob of his axe into a felguard's snarling face and bury his axe in the fiend's chest.

The mortar explosions stopped as the two sides clashed and the noise around Maurus dropped to the merely violent cacophony of combat. The sizzling sound of fire and lightning and the crackling chime of frost added itself to the screams and shouts and crashing steel. The air became thick with the smell of charred flesh, burned hair and the almost intoxicating scent of blood.

As always, the bloodlust wasn't truly intoxicating though. Rather than dulling his wits, it sharpened his senses and his instincts, and with Mathias and Calen on either side and Ash unbalancing the enemies, they cut deep wounds in several felguards and fel orcs in just a few seconds.

The hole in the enemy line opened line of sight to two robed fel orcs in the enemy formation and before the fel guards could close ranks, Arianna and the casters around her struck. Flashes of lightning, tongues of flame and a dark purple orb cut through the opening and the two warlocks crumbled, their robes aflame.

A flash of pain on Maurus' leg made him look down and spot one of the downed fel orcs stabbing at him. He pulled his leg out of the way of the stab, feeling blood trickle down his leg and saw the mangled chest of the fel orc begin to knit together and its snarl became fiercer.

With a growl, Maurus stepped forward, bringing his hoof down on the fel orc's head with a crunch. He raised his head and saw several other wounded enemies regain their strength as they drew blood.

"Make sure they're dead," he shouted, opening a felguard from hip to shoulder and reversing his swing to take off its head. Another fiend stepped into the felguard's place, leading with a wave of flame.

The flame guttered out as Ash swallowed the magic and Maurus grinned darkly at the demon as healing warmth flowing into his limbs and the casters' chant behind. The fiend raised both cleavers but it didn't get the chance to let them fall, as blasts of dark and blazing fire struck it, eating greedily through flesh that was already wasting away. Howling in pain, the demon was defenseless as Maurus and his companions struck the final blows, Calen's weapon glowing with holy fire.

As the demon fell, Maurus looked past it and inhaled sharply when he saw Ven'Zarul leap into the air. His black-armored form rose over the enemy ranks, clearing the felguard's height by five feet in a completely vertical leap and green mist gathered in his palms before being unleashed with a word Maurus couldn't hear, but seemed to feel.

"Sleep!" Maurus shouted as the green mist came toward him with an unearthly, whispery wail. He closed his mouth with a snap, deliberately catching his right cheek between his teeth hard enough to draw blood. The sharp pain radiating out from his bite cut through the sluggishness that the mist induced and with a growl and an effort of will, he shook the magic off entirely. Around him, he heard more growls and groggy annoyed exclamations, but he also spotted Zrahi's and Broga's unconscious forms get swiftly pulled back from the front rank.

"Seen your tricks," Maurus growled under his breath, bashing the teeth from a fel orc. He stepped back in the momentary respite and managed a quick look up the slope, seeing To'ro's riders burst from the tunnel and lope down the slope with impressive agility, followed by both Braga's and Te'kan's soldiers, the latter loosing arrows as they went.

Thalmir had doubted the wisdom of bringing the riders, but Maurus had overruled him, figuring that To'ro's lack of protest meant that they would be fine in the steep terrain. The petty vindication and the anticipation of the impact of his reinforcements made Maurus bark out a harsh laugh as he attacked again.

To'ro's riders hit the enemy hard, riding down the imps on one side and unbalancing the right flank. The silent blades of Braga swept around the other side of the enemy and soon, Maurus could feel the balance of the battle shifting. They had sprung the trap and yet were winning, the enemy line crumbling and Maurus felt a vicious satisfaction as he spilled more and more dark blood.

As the weight of enemies gave way, Mathias lead in a slow advance, pressing toward Ven'Zarul with a single-minded purpose as the dreadlord edged toward the right flank. Maurus followed, shielding his friend's side, though he hardly seemed to need it. The seemingly imminent fulfilment of his revenge seemed to energize Mathias and his sword was deadlier than ever.

If Mathias hadn't pushed forward so intently, Maurus might have missed it when Ven'Zarul barked an order to the warlocks. A familiar, red mist coalesced around the demons and fel orcs and an ululating cry rose from their throats as their eyes went wild and froth appeared around their fanged mouths.

Maurus had to step back to properly weather a torrent of blows aimed at himself and those around him and he could sense that the sudden renewed ferocity of the enemy had The Torn Wing on the backfoot. He wasn't overly worried though. They had faced blood-crazed Legion before and he snarled in confident challenge as he pushed back.

His confidence dwindled however, when he caught sight of Ven'Zarul again. As a swarm of buzzing locusts passed over his head, he saw the dreadlord grab two warlocks by the neck and lift the struggling orcs from the ground. The fel fire in Ven'Zarul's eyes flared, spilling out over the corners of his eyes and the flame appeared around his hands as he began to chant. The words were barely audible over the clamor, but Maurus recognized the words, feeling his stomach twist with disgust and fear. The warlocks screamed as acid-green fire blazed out of their eyes and mouths and nostrils, blackening the skin around them.

"Shoot him!" Maurus shouted. "Stop him!"

Widget's gun barked again, but Ven'Zarul twisted both himself and his victims out of the path and Maurus felt a sudden chill when the dreadlord's voice rose over the din. The warlocks in his hands tensed one last time and then went limp, as the final syllable rang like a death knell.

"Back," Maurus roared, mentally cursing Ven'Zarul for having increased in power. "Scatter! Now!"

The dreaded whistling reached his ears as he frantically backed up. The pressure of bodies behind him vanished, the casters evidently following orders promptly, but with orcs and demons attacking furiously, he couldn't just turn and run. Desperately, with his heart pounding in his chest, he cried out to the spirits and with a sudden jolt, he felt the connection snap into place. Through him, the sky and the earth was connected and with a thundering stomp, he sent the nearest dozen enemies staggering from the wave of force and rock shards.

Freed from the attacks, he leapt backwards, retreating with Mathias and Calen. Most of the other front-rankers were also managing to retreat, thanks to the casters. Demons stumbled over incongruous sheep, staggered through their banished brethren and were forced back by crackling elementals of fire and earth.

It wasn't quite enough. Maurus managed to throw his arms up in front of his face before he was flung back, jostled by two simultaneous waves of force and somehow, he managed to land on his side rather than on his back, where Widget still clung. His ears rang with the crash, his entire body throbbed and he could feel blood dripping from his ear, his nose and several places within his armor.

Dazed, he saw another light hanging in the sky and the sight shocked him into action. He gained his hooves and snarled at the rising infernals and the demons coming around the craters. He was still woozy and his vision swam with red splotches, making the enemy indistinct and the storm behind them look blood red, but he steadied himself with pain and rage. With trolls, orcs, wolves and raptors on the ground around the craters and the wounds in Maurus' flesh, there was plenty of both.

"Bombs!" Someone familiar shouted and Maurus almost overbalanced as he felt the weight on his back shift. A handful of black spheres sailed through the air, impacting the shrieking infernals and a dozen lances of flame and lightning followed.

The explosions were deafening cracks of sound and Maurus could feel the shockwave hit his face like hard slaps. Pieces of smoldering obsidian, many of them the size of Maurus' lower arm, exploded out among the demons, drawing shrieks and howls of pain.

The fog in his head lifted enough for him to find his tongue.

"To me!"

The devastation of the exploding infernals and the efforts of the elementals delayed the enemy long enough that Maurus was surrounded by his men when the fel orcs and demons advanced again.

Maurus felt his rage get bolstered by another wave of the shamans' magic and he threw himself at the charging enemy with little regard for his own safety. He swung his axe in a wide arcs, trusting his armor and his comrades to guard him and felled enemies with almost every stroke.

From his right, he heard troll voices shout out in berserk fury and from his left, he heard the rush of magic and before long, the enemy was ground down, the last fel orc falling to a well-placed arrow.

Maurus shook himself as he realized they were out of enemies. There was something he was forgetting.

"He's getting away!" Mathias spat venomously.

Maurus followed his friend's gaze and suddenly realized why the battle had finished so quickly. Maybe a third of the enemy force, including a number of succubi and seemingly a bodyguard of fiends, were retreating down the slope, gathered around the unmistakable form of Ven'Zarul.

He felt his blood boil, but he forced his voice to be calm. "Healers, take stock of the wounded."

He glanced around and as he looked left, he realized that the light he had seen earlier wasn't an infernal but rather a pale white flare, burning bright over the opposite ridge. It seemed the Frostwolves had been successful.

"Widget," he said. "Give the signal."

"Okay, Boss," Widget said, sounding a little rattled and then there was the light report of a gun, followed by a sizzling sound.

"Maurus!" Mathias snarled.

"A moment," Maurus bit back. Looking right, he saw To'ro's remaining soldiers. They were all covered in blood and half of them were kneeling by To'ro's prone form while the rest were collapsed by their fallen comrades and beasts. Only half of the beasts were still alive and most of them looked worse for wear, whimpering and limping, covered in their own blood and that of their enemies.

The mournful boom of a warhorns sounded up through the canyon and Maurus felt a small spark of pride for a job well done, though it almost drowned in rage and grief at the fallen he could see.

Movement in the corner of his eye made him look left again and he saw a small swarm of windriders come flying through the canyon, apparently headed straight for the two closest fel reavers.

Allowing his gaze to go further, he had to swallow as he again looked at the massive battle and the reddening sky to the north. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought everyone could hear his pulse beat like a drum and he was glad his helmet concealed his expression.

"He is-" Mathias began again.

"Not this time," Maurus interrupted him, tearing his gaze back to his unit. He raised his voice: "Triage. Three minutes."

He turned to Braga and gestured to the catapults and mortars. "You know how to work these, right?"

"Just 'bout," Braga said nonchalantly, swiping his greasy hair back over his scalp, leaving streaks of dirt and blood in it.

"Let that thing know we're here," Maurus said, gesturing at the fel reaver. When you're out of ammunition, guard the wounded. Follow when ready."

Braga nodded, turned and shouted at his men, who all ran toward the now unmanned catapults.

He took stock of the rest of the Torn Wing as he fished his health stone from his belt pouch. Considering the circumstances, it wasn't that bad, but being locked in combat with enraged demons while infernals landed were extremely bad circumstances. The groans and screams and limp bodies still made him feel sick and he could only hope that most were wounded and not dead.

When Arianna and Wiven joined him, he felt terribly selfish for the massive relief he felt. The sparks of relief he felt when he noticed Zrahi, Drim and several others approach didn't make him feel less selfish and he felt terribly callous when he turned his attention to judging whether or not he had enough of a unit to go after Ven'Zarul with. It was a relief that the answer seemed to be yes and when Seranna gave him her opinion on the wounded, he felt just slightly lighter. He had half a unit and the healers had hope.

"Alright! Calen, Drunnya, Shayla, you're with me. Main healers stay here. Everyone else who can fight, follow me." He started forward. He could he could see the dark satisfaction in Mathias' expression and he bared his teeth as he pointed with his axe toward the demons retreating. They had a fair head start, but it was a long run before they could reach any allies.

"Time to run them to ground."


	28. Chapter 28

Chasing Through Hell

Storm's End

The sky churned and the ground rumbled. Maurus and about half of the Torn Wing hurtled down the slope after Ven'Zarul and his demons. The dreadlord had a significant lead after the delay Maurus had allowed, but Maurus paid it no heed except for keeping his strides as long as possible.

"Slow down, Cow. We can't keep up!" Arianna called.

Maurus looked back and saw that he and most of his tauren were indeed outpacing the others and made a decision.

"Tauren, with me. We'll hold them till you catch up," he called and immediately, he saw the rest of the tauren push their way toward him. Looking back down at the demons and noting the narrow formation they had adopted, he added: "Stick to the path they've set. Might be more mines."

"Cow!" Arianna called, anger in her voice.

"We've got this," Maurus answered, ignoring his own doubts and keeping his pace as all the tauren formed up around him. Behind them, Arianna cursed in Thalassian before shouting angrily at the others to up the pace and he found himself smirking.

As they rushed down the uneven, winding path, Maurus divided his attention between Ven'Zarul and the battlefield. The closest fel reaver was pumping out greasy, green smoke as it approached canyon. Above it, a swarm of flyers circled, demon and Horde. The windriders weaved and dodged through the demons with astonishing skill, though they got few kills.

He only realized what was going on when he noticed single windriders occasionally diving through the demons toward the fel reaver, pulling up at the same time that a small explosion rocked the demon machine. The demons were protecting the fel reaver from bombing runs with what was probably Widget's bombs and the windriders were focusing on breaking through rather than killing their enemies. The bombs once again showed themselves to be surprisingly destructive, making the fel reaver visibly twitch whenever one detonated against its metal hide.

Behind the fel reaver, the battle was raging with even more ferocity than before. At the northern side of the valley, blood elves and naga seemed to be making a push hard against the Aliance forces while the greater part of the enemy force, fel orcs and demons, were holding their position in the center of the valley. The wind was picking up again, pushing ruddy red storm clouds out over the valley and drowning out most sound, but Maurus could easily imagine the clamor of death and steel and fire. Even from this distance, he could see the flashes of spells and the flash of explosions and the fact that not all the flashes seemed to be combined barrages told him that there were some incredibly powerful casters down there among the massive, flowing formations. Once again, the sheer scale astonished him and his youthful lust for glory made him want to be in the thick of it, while his hard-won experience told him that he should be thankful to be on the edge of it.

Turning his gaze back to his quarry, he felt grim satisfaction at seeing they were indeed narrowing the gap. Despite many of the retreating demons being either his size of flying, his tauren were eating up the distance and he felt a vindictive pride in having taken Ven'Zarul's ability to fly from him.

This time, they would get him.

A sudden movement to his left made him glance east again. The fel reaver was staggering, a handful of boulders falling from where they had impacted its chest and the swarm of demons above it suddenly quivered like they felt the pain. Maurus' heart sank as a full third of the demons soared away from the fel reaver, setting a course almost due south, toward the artillery the Torn Wing had just captured. He felt a particular regret that he had let Widget convince him that she would be both safer and more use by the artillery.

'What's done is done,' he reminded himself harshly. 'And we can't make it back in time anyway.' The words were true, but it did nothing for the nausea in his stomach or the clenching in his chest and he ground his teeth as he watched the demons move.

The windriders didn't hesitate to take advantage of the diminished opposition. As one, they fell into steep dives and Maurus held his breath, only able to look away because he knew he would stumble and fall if he didn't also keep an eye on his footing.

More rocks impacted the fel reaver as the windriders dove and Maurus was now so close that he could faintly hear the clang of impact.

There was nothing faint about the flurry of explosions that followed though. The demons had miscalculated. Once again showing their insane bravery and incredible skill, the windriders streaked down the fel reaver's body, ignoring the demons and the fel reaver's fists. Some were batted out of the air by the fel reaver or intercepted by the demons, but most made it, pulling out of their dive just before crashing into the ground at its feet. As they zoomed off along the ground behind the fel reaver, the bombs they had carried detonated along the machine's knee and hip joints in a multitude of sharp cracks. Metal tore and green smoke poured out like lifeblood and the fel reaver's left leg collapsed beneath it.

Slowly, like a great tree falling, the fel reaver fell, looking decidedly odd as it made no effort to catch itself, collapsing out of sight with a mighty crash that sent up a cloud of green smoke and purple dust.

A triumphant roar rose from further back in the canyon and Maurus realized that the Horde flankers were even closer than he had thought, having probably only hung back to wait for the path to clear.

The sight of the metal behemoth falling also filled Maurus' chest with primal triumph, but it was tempered by the fear he felt for Widget and the others he had left behind up the slope. That fear lessened slightly as he saw the windriders turn back and follow the ascending demons, but cold reason told him they wouldn't be enough. The demons outnumbered the windriders and having to catch up wouldn't put the Horde flyers in a good position.

With effort, he pushed the worries aside, focusing on his rage, letting his fear feed it. Turning his attention back to Ven'Zarul, he saw that the tauren had at the very least gotten another stretch closer. He realized with dark glee that they were going to lessen the gap even further now, because the demons had changed direction, climbing northeast rather than northwest now.

It took a moment before Maurus figured out why: Ven'Zarul had been going toward the canyon, but the advancing Horde had made that route unusable, forcing him to use the slower route along the ridge.

With no warning, a blinding flash filled Maurus' vision, brighter than any lightning he had ever seen and no thunder followed it. Blinking the spots from his vision, he found that the clouds over the central battlefield had shrunk and lost their bloody hue. Directly below the now purple sky, a red giant as tall as the fel reavers had appeared in the midst of the demonic formation. Tongues of flame and something like a heat haze wreathed it, making its form somewhat indistinct, but he could still make out its general appearance. It looked like a male draenei, but its skin was a deep, bloody red and great bat-like wings sprouted from its back, hanging loose like a royal cloak. Wicked talons, two curling horns and ornate, wickedly spiked armor the color of ink further emphasized the creature's demonic appearance and showed that it had far more kinship with the demons around it than with the newest members of the Alliance. An eredar, one of the corrupted draenei, the leaders of the Legion. A few of them had appeared in the largest battles, but they were never so large nor had he ever heard of any of them with wings.

A frozen moment passed, before something clicked in Maurus' mind, almost hesitantly, like he had been reluctant to even consider it. He had heard of one winged eredar, when Arianna had reluctantly educated him on the Legion. In a hushed voice, she had told him of the Legion's acting leader, Kil'jaeden, Archimonde's equal and previous co-leader, the most powerful and insidious demon alive and the Dark Titan's favored servant.

His step faltered and his breath stuck in his throat. A deep chill crept into his bones and his heart beat rabbit-quick in his chest, even as his mind refused to accept the idea. One thing Arianna had been adamant about had been that The Deceiver lived up to his name, never taking direct action and always acting through pawns.

No matter Maurus' incredulity, the appearance of the red giant made an instant impression down in the valley. A roar he could hear even from this distance rose from thousands of demonic throats and the assembled forces of the Horde and the Alliance rippled like a field of grass in a breeze, visibly quailing. It was the worst possible time for that to happen, because in the far distance, Maurus could just make out a tide of red and black crawl over the north-western horizon, heading directly toward the Alliance to the north.

Kil'jaeden was not facing the Horde and Alliance formations though. For a single terrified moment, Maurus got the ridiculous impression that the demon was looking at him before he realized that his burning gaze must be on Tempest Keep and the manaforge, which were directly between Maurus and the demon lord.

Kil'jaeden's focus did not make the Horde or Alliance safe however. As he began walking toward the manaforge, his step casual and relaxed, he almost absently made a complicated gesture and a sea of green flame enveloped several hundred Horde.

Maurus was almost surprised to realize he was still moving instead of simply staring in horror. Desperate for something to battle the despair that threatened him like a dark cloud, he forced his gaze forward, fixing it on Ven'Zarul, who had also slowed since the appearance of Kil'jaeden.

He felt another shock however, when Kil'jaeden spoke. He had a smooth, rumbling baritone, a voice that promised knowledge and truth and understanding like the succubi's promised pleasure and it swept out over the battlefield like a tidal wave, so clear over the howling wind that it could only be caused by magic. "Ah, Betrayer. True to your nature to the very end, spiting my mercy. Running to steal power from the Naaru this time. But you will not live long enough for your stolen Keep to exalt you. The power will be the Legion's."

Despite the threatening words, Maurus felt for a moment like he could listen to that voice forever, never gainsaying it. Then he felt sick. The eredar was named the Deceiver for a reason and was among the most dangerous and evil beings in existence, but Maurus felt an instinctive trust when he spoke. That his words could worm their way into his mind with such ease was terrifying.

Luckily, the eredar didn't continue to speak and with a feeling of faint disappointment that sickened him, Maurus turned his attention back on running, gaining speed quickly despite the uneven, shaking ground.

The terror he felt didn't ease however. Ven'Zarul's group was veering slowly to the right, and Maurus realized with a cold shock that they were half-way to the valley floor now and that their route was taking them toward the increasingly incandescent manaforge. They were still very close to their quarry, thankfully, but the race was truly on now.

Ahead, the Legion forces were arrayed, though thankfully facing the canyon and the west, rather than directly toward Maurus, but the fel reavers stood sentinel against the ever closer manaforge, surrounded by a contingent of blood elves and fel orcs. Above, seeming to cast a heavy shadow over Maurus, Tempest Keep loomed, the corona of colorful lightning seeming to have gained strength and making his fur stand on end and brush weirdly against the inside of his armor.

And from the center of the valley, the terrifying form of Kil'jaeden approached with long, lazy strides, showing his awesome power again by throwing out a hand and calling half a dozen infernals down onto the front rank of the Horde.

Something exploded with a sharp crack behind and to the right of Ven'Zarul's group, thankfully dragging Maurus' gaze from Kil'Jaeden. Next, a boulder hit in front of them, making the demons stumble, before another explosion smashed a rock to their left and then an explosion flashed almost in the middle of the group. Blood sprayed and demons and fel orcs fell to the ground, limp and wounded. Maurus bared his teeth as he saw even Ven'Zarul stumble, clutching at his side and glancing over his shoulder.

"Come on, tauren!" Maurus growled, putting on a burst of speed as the demons slowly rallied. Another explosion tore apart half a dozen fel orcs on the far left side of the demons while Ven'Zarul gestured with sudden urgency. The demons and fel orcs still on their feet reacted quickly, turning east, and Maurus felt a stab of disgust as he saw them not only leaving behind their wounded, but actually stooping to rip or cut open throats as they moved.

Keeping low, the demons sprinted forward and quickly disappeared behind a ridge that crossed the slope and blocked them from view from everyone further up the mountainside.

Maurus followed. His blood was pumping and the rage in him was screaming to hurl himself at Ven'Zarul, but a calmer voice told him that going straight to the edge of that ridge would be walking into an ambush, so he resumed his previous route. Beneath the ridge Ven'Zarul sheltered behind, uneven mounds and sharp cliffs spread like broken fingers, a path Ven'Zarul had previously avoided in favor of the faster open ground. But now that the demons were imperiled by artillery, they would probably follow the difficult but more shielding terrain.

Further down the slope, the cliffs shrank and vanished, leaving only open ground again. Maurus considered the cliffs, then looked up the slope, finding the rest of his group a fair ways behind his tauren. Thinking back to own speed when he had climbed the mountains between the Barrens and Ashenvale, he decided that they could reach the open ground before Ven'Zarul's group, even if they waited for the slower elements and waiting for Arianna and Slova so they could give ascertain Ven'Zarul's position would probably be wise.

So he called for a halt by the enemy wounded. Bone crushed wetly as his tauren began stomping the wounded without any prompting, while Maurus looked over toward the ridges. Succubi were circling above, keeping their movements erratic to give no indication of where the ground force was but it was not important. He was just about sure where they would come out and the lack of confirmed location did not keep his impromptu artillery crews from steadily bombarding the craggy area in general.

As he waited, struggling to ignore the jittery tension that screamed at him to release it in combat. he glanced down at the valley again.

A massive wave of Horde cavalry was sweeping out from the canyon, banners streaming like streaks of blood in the wind. Wolves howled, kodos bellowed and the riders screamed as they parted around the remains of the fel reaver and charged the Legion force. The demon line visibly shuddered to be in way of the charge, but it did hold.

That only got a second of attention, though, because he quickly turned his gaze to the area around the manaforge, astonishment making his eyes widen. None of the four fel reavers had turned to join that battle. Instead, all of them were stomping toward Kil'jaeden, noxious green steam flowing off them like body heat. They were followed by a blue wave of naga and from the northernmost part of Tempest Keep, a group of purple, ghostly drakes with riders in black swept down toward the red giant.

And from The Eye itself, a small cluster of figures leaped into the air to soar toward Kil'jaeden on dark wings. They were dark shadows, clutching half-moon blades in each hand and burning with a acid-green fire which made them look like a small, poisonous meteor shower descending on the demon lord.

Still unable to believe it, Maurus saw the fel reavers stomp through the demons surrounding Kil'jaeden, killing scores with deliberately sweeping steps, carving a path that the naga followed. Any doubt about the fel reavers' intentions were dispelled when they all lifted fists like tree trunks and charged.

Maurus gaped as Kil'jaeden threw himself into the battle. He made a violent, ripping motion at one of the fel reavers, and the fel fire in it was simply extinguished, the green steam flowing into his outstretched hand. As he did, he dodged the others' attacks, his motions almost disdainful and Maurus was suddenly reminded of Ven'Zarul's movements, though the dreadlord seemed sluggish and unskilled in comparison. That it was something so massive that put Ven'Zarul to shame was only more astonishing and the terror Maurus had managed to fight down began to build again.

The nether drakes and the burning demons from the Eye reached Kil'jaeden next and the battle became more even as the flyers began to harry him, making it impossible for him to treat the fel reavers with the same disdain. Green fire and dark, grasping shadows leaped from Kil'jaeden's hands and eyes, but the flyers dodged nimbly, just barely avoiding the lethal bursts of magic, while retaliating with flashes of dark magic and seemingly suicidal melee attacks.

Finally, the naga reached Kil'jaeden, unleashing a storm of icy blue magic, lightning and frost flashing up from the valley.

It was mesmerizing, the swirl of flyers, the bursts of magic and the heavy, enormous movements of the red and black giants. Not so mesmerizing that Maurus didn't notice the arrival of the others though. Over a hundred pairs of running feet weren't exactly quiet after all.

Maurus looked at his newly arrived soldiers as they gathered around him, assuming a loose version of their usual battle formation. The familiar people gathering around him eased a bereft nervousness he hadn't even realized he had felt and he noted with satisfaction that none of them seemed as winded as he had feared.

Arianna reached his side and touched his shoulder. None of her previous frustration was visible in her features and instead, obvious fear and disbelief twisted her face into an expression that stung in Maurus' chest.

The expressions around him were for the most part similar, ranging from stark terror to grim determination and the entire group felt tense, more so than ever before. Wiven was one of the ones who looked outright terrified. Thalmir and the other elves and most of the orcs Maurus could see showed some fear, but their eyes also blazed with hate. Zrahi, Zilja and most of the other trolls didn't look so hateful, but fear and determination still struggled in their expressions.

Mathias' expression was odd. There was that grim determination, but there was a thoughtful tilt to his head as well.

Calen was quite different from everyone else. He looked calm, tranquil even. There was a determined sense to his stance, but his face, what Maurus could see of it, was open and composed, his eyes serene as he looked unflinchingly at Kil'jaeden.

"You know who-" Arianna began.

"Kil'jaeden," Maurus interrupted her, beginning to move again. She and several others flinched at the word while others hissed or growled or spat in disgust.

Mathias nodded once, his thoughtfulness vanishing. "He's the one," he said, voice a deadly, quiet thing. He didn't elaborate, but Maurus didn't need him to in order to understand. Barring the Dark Titan himself, Kil'jaeden was ultimately the source of pain that Mathias had ever shared with Maurus, from orcs through undeath to the loss of Garm.

Following the same kind of logic, Maurus got a hunch about Calen as well. Kil'jaeden was the next best thing to the incarnation of darkness that he as a paladin was sworn to fight.

"Priorities," he rumbled, catching Mathias's and Calen's eyes in turn. "We have our hands full with the dreadlord already. After that, we'll see."

Calen accepted the order with serenity, giving an even nod before making his way to the front of the group. Mathias stared for a moment before he also nodded and pushed his way to the front as well, constantly glancing toward the ridges.

"After?" Arianna asked. Her voice was flat but it hid an edge of disbelief. "Look at him."

"It'll be over long before we get to chip in," Maurus answered quietly, glancing at the battle again. The demons and fel orcs had closed in around the naga, though the serpentine creatures held their ground much more ably than Maurus had expected, having formed a circle from where their casters continued to harry Kil'jaeden. Another fel reaver had fallen, but that only seemed to have made them more effective, as they no longer got in the way of each other when they attacked and the ghostly nether drakes continued to frustrate the massive demon, despite the waves and tendrils of magic that pulsed from him.

But Kil'jaeden was still pushing his attackers back, his progress toward Tempest Keep slowed rather than stopped. The crowd of flyers around him had already shrunk by a third and now the demon flyers were also descending on the drakes and what must be demon hunters and Maurus knew the demons' superior numbers would be deadly for those that relied on speed and grace for survival.

"Find our demon," Maurus said, lifting Arianna from the ground in a motion that had become so natural with practice that neither he nor Arianna missed a moment's motion. Arianna murmured the spell even as he lifted her and held out a hand in the direction of the ridges almost before he had settled her against his chest.

"Can't hide from us," Maurus growled. "So what will you try?"

They kept a comfortable distance to the nearest ridge, eyeing the terrain as they made their way down the slope. The battlefield began to get worryingly close, the manaforge fully visible now and the closest wing of the Keep would soon be above them.

And Kil'jaeden was getting closer and closer.

"We're ahead," Arianna finally said, as they were passing a ridge that vanished into the ground just before a wide field of boulders about Maurus' height. Maurus let Arianna down and held up a hand and gave a shout. His soldiers came to a stop around him, all eyes turning to the thirteen succubi circling over the uneven ground to the east.

"Slova?" he called as Arianna walked toward the back of the formation. Slova passed her, his scarred lips moving as he murmured, a piece of inscribed bone in his hand.

"Close," Slova grumbled as he reached Maurus.

"Quite close," Arianna called from the other end of the formation and Maurus called for the formation to turn.

Even as they did, the succubi suddenly dove toward them and from between the ridges a short distance away, more demons appeared. Most of them were the lithe forms of succubi but more worryingly, ten blue-skinned fiends rose from the ground with more speed than should be possible, leaping more than flying toward the Torn Wing.

"Cripple them," Maurus roared, pointing his axe at the fiends. When he saw fel hounds come bounding out from behind the boulders and rocks he added: "Forward! Close those maws!"

The barrage of magic that soared toward the flying demons suddenly dropped, as if gravity had begun affecting them more heavily and the fire and lightning came apart into motes of magic that the charging fel hounds sucked into gaping maws. Unharmed by the casters, the fiends came down just behind the front rank, throwing the ranks into disarray in a flurry of steel and flame. Maurus growled in frustration though he felt a hint of pride that his warriors managed to reform much of the line before the fel hounds reached them.

The casters didn't hesitate either. Beside Maurus, Arianna and Wiven sent streams of shadow and flame toward the demons, their combined assault bringing a fiend down in seconds, its skin blackened and its blood steaming out from gaping sores. Drunnya and many of the shamans threw themselves against the other demons, while others sent lances of lightning at the succubi harrying them from the air.

Still, despite their quick recovery, the hounds and the flyers had their attention and that was when fel guards and fel orcs appeared from the ridges. Maurus had the sudden thought that there seemed to be more than before and the absence of Ven'Zarul made him fear that another wave was hiding behind the rocks.

He had no time to consider it more deeply though, because there was a shout of Eredun and then he had to defend himself and Arianna against a several diving succubi. He felt claws clang off his shoulderplate and caught a whip around his axe, pulling the succubi down to smash his knee into its belly, but the moment of inattention cost him.

A fel guard on the left flank suddenly gestured and Maurus glanced at in in horror as a familiar wail sounded and Dogar, Sika and several others fell to the ground in unconscious, defenseless heaps, leaving a hole where the tauren and orcs had held the line. Even as the warriors collapsed, he saw the fel guard's form shift and grow. It gained muscle and height, its armor shifted, flowing into more full armor but leaving a one-horned head bare and a single wing sprouted suddenly from its back. The entire change happened as Ven'Zarul reached the downed line of warriors and with legs twice as thick as a moment before, he launched himself into a great leap. He made a complicated gesture as he flew, unleashing magic with harsh words of power and sending a swarm of buzzing, stinging insects down into the warriors below him.

A shower of lightning and fire lashed up toward Ven'Zarul, but the casters had not been prepared for the sudden attack, so what seemed an almost suicidal move became one that was merely very risky. Red and black burns bloomed on Ven'Zarul's exposed skin and his remaining wing was torn in several places, but the damage was not apparent in his movements as he landed in the midst of the casters, to Maurus' left.

The regular formation, having a ring around the casters, suddenly worked against them. Those closest to Ven'Zarul tried to back away, but there was little room and the dreadlord was too quick. Taking full advantage of his speed and reach, he punched his claws through the chests of Teran and his priest sister while his ragged wing darted out, caving in the helmet and skull of a troll shaman.

"Hold the line," Maurus roared toward Mathias and Calen, heart sinking as several of the sleeping warriors were cut down by the charging fel guards.

His dismay and rage only grew as Ven'Zarul's left claw sent Ditha staggering back, clutching her belly and a kick of his hooves made an undead priest crumble.

There was one advantage though. Warriors were dotted through the casters, but more importantly, a large number of the casters were heavier casters, shamans and druids. Shayla, several other shamans and two massive, horned bears were already forming a ring around the dreadlord and the rest of the shamans were falling into defensive stances as well.

Maurus felt a small spark of pride in his soldiers, but it was a minor thing compared to his rage and pain. "Crippled piece of wolf scat," he roared. "Come and face me!"

Ven'Zarul's expression darkened, but his movements remained controlled, though starkly different from the last battle. He lunged forward once again moving through a hail of attacks, many of which hit, but he didn't even flinch. His focus was entirely on the bear in front of him as he let his wing catch the bear's blow. The bone audibly snapped, but Ven'Zarul barely flinched, whirling around the bear's thick limb and slamming his claws into the bear's eyes.

"Hamstring him," Maurus shouted, as the bear collapsed and the bone in Ven'Zarul's wing righted itself again. "Blood!" he added to the shamans as he finally reached the ring and pushed himself into the combat.

The orders got a reaction so immediate that Maurus was uncertain if he had had any influence on it, but he cared not one bit. The next barrage of magic that swept toward Ven'Zarul had a decidedly different quality than the earlier wave of flame and lightning, though it was no less radiant in color. Sensing the change, Ven'Zarul paused his assault to dodge and move his hands in quick warding gestures, though he couldn't stop it all. Several subtle orbs of magic swept past his guard while a tendril of withered vine climbed up his leg.

He snarled, ripping his leg from the weak root, sweeping his gaze around. It locked on Maurus and as Maurus lashed out with his axe, his attack falling in unison with several others, Ven'Zarul leaped again.

Maurus' throat constricted as Ven'Zarul passed over him, ignoring the axe that cut into his leg. He whirled just in time to see Ven'Zarul lash out around him again, tearing through several of the vulnerable casters. Faye and two trolls, priest and mage, fell, skull caved in or guts torn open and Ven'Zarul simply stomped over their corpses, tearing into more of the casters between himself and the front line.

Rage flared up in Maurus and not just his own. He felt boiling strength rise in his body, his muscles swelling with strength. The blood on Ven'Zarul's claws and body seemed to grow darker and despite the stink of the battlefield, he could faintly smell it. Letting the bloodlust fill him, he stepped forward, his axe light in his hand as he roared at Ven'Zarul.

The shamans around him roared in answer, the battle cry an ululating challenge and in unison, they attacked Ven'Zarul, who whirled to defend himself.

Despite their number, they struggled. Maurus had to stop his third sweeping blow to block Ven'Zarul's claws, which made visible scratches on the steel of his axe and he felt flash of fire when a half-dodged blow cut through mail and flesh beneath his arm. Only a quick elbow to the shaman beside him saved the orc from decapitation and earned him a jarring strike to the shoulder and despite their coordinated attack, Ven'Zarul drew blood again, snapping Drunnya's arm with his wing and kicking a troll shaman with bone-crushing force, getting even closer to where Calen, Mathias and the rest were beginning to firm the front-line. And the superficial wounds he incurred shrunk again, making Maurus' stomach clench with fear and his heart burn with rage.

Tendrils of shadow flowed up over Ven'Zarul's head, the visible impact of a warlock spell and Ven'Zarul sneered. He lashed out, but Maurus dodged, finding that the claws were coming a fraction slower than before. That was confirmed when two bolts of ice impacted Ven'Zarul's breastplate, covering the black metal with a sheen of almost black ice.

Maurus pressed in, sensing his chance and the shamans around him followed. Ven'Zarul backed away, grimacing as the light of spells lit him from behind, but his hands moved quickly again, lips parting to speak words of power.

Maurus flinched, his eyes squeezing almost shut as a solid wall of biting, buzzing insects flowed out toward him. There were sounds of revulsion and pain around him as he felt the disgusting creatures worm their way between the chinks in his armor, but he pressed forward after only a moment's hesitation, ignoring the stings and bites.

The moment was an eternity in that battle. Ven'Zarul had moved, making more progress than seemed possible in the tight press of bodies, leaving groaning and screaming Horde in his bloody wake, the buzzing all around them showing that the locust swarm had not just been aimed at Maurus. The casters had been pressed up against the three-thick line of melee fighters at the front line and Maurus felt his heart leap into his throat as Ven'Zarul threw away the disintegrating corpse of Ash. Even from behind, he could see the threads of magical corrosion in Ven'Zarul's visible flesh and the burns from devouring, green-tinged flame, but it didn't stop the dreadlord and Maurus screamed wordlessly as claws swept out in twin deadly arcs.

Ash had protected Wiven and Arianna from the locusts, consuming the magical creatures, but also marking them as a target. Wiven leaped at the last minute, but he was still thrown to the ground, face contorted in agony, blood splattering over the warriors. Arianna managed to almost dodge the blow, throwing herself back so the razor-sharp claws only grazed her forehead, shearing hair and just barely opening the skin. Yet, even as Maurus threw himself forward, he could see her overbalancing, and Ven'Zarul's other hand came back around, catching her in the side, cutting deep into hip and belly and sending her whirling to land on the ground in a sickening heap.

Ven'Zarul continued forward, raising his hoof for a stomp, but he suddenly hesitated as Arianna's arm rose, throwing a handful of darkness into his face and his form visible tensed with pain, his hoof coming down half a foot from where Arianna slumped again.

Chest feeling suddenly hollow, Maurus roared again, but he felt like he was moving through molasses. Ven'Zarul's pained fit lasted only for a moment, not long enough that Maurus' seemingly ponderous charge could reach him and his claws spread from the pained fist they had been squeezed into. He rose from his crouch before he could touch Arianna and Wiven again though, forced to Maurus' left by a flurry of lightning and the sudden attacks of Mathias, Crava and several others.

Maurus finally reached Ven'Zarul, roaring as he swung his axe at his remaining wing. Lashing out like an arm, the wing deflected the blow, whipping back to smack against Maurus' helm and send him stumbling back.

Snorting blood from his nose, he leaped back into the fight, ducking sweeping claws and swinging low, but the blow bounced off Ven'Zarul's greave and he had to duck to avoid the return blow.

A moment later, Maurus was suddenly on the defensive as Ven'Zarul's eyes locked on his and a flurry of blows rained down over him. He managed to parry and block the blows with his axe and his armor, but pain still bloomed in his' shoulders and arms. Behind Ven'Zarul, Mathias saw his chance and rushed forward.

A flicker of cruel amusement appeared in Ven'Zarul's eyes and the corners of his mouth quirked up, an expression Maurus had seen a few times already during the battle. His heart leaped into his throat, his eyes widening and he opened his mouth, knowing he was too late. Ven'Zarul whirled and sunk his claws into Mathias' side, beneath his up-raised sword arm. He continued the movement, lifting Mathias from the ground and flinging him into a troll nearby and the two landed in a heap beside Arianna and Wiven, dark blood and torn metal pattering to the ground around them.

Maurus felt like it was his that guts had been torn out. His mouth snapped shut and his teeth ground against each other as he said a prayer in his mind, reaching for that elusive power that he could faintly sense in the storm.

Ven'Zarul's arm snapped back around, smashing the back of his hand into Maurus' helmet and he felt the metal deform and his teeth rattle. There was an instant, painful jolt in his neck and the power of the blow sent him stumbling to the ground, the spirits of the storm seeming to withdraw from him.

He was on the ground, his head swimming, his vision out of focus. There was a dark figure standing over him, half-blocked by a golden-haloed warrior, but for some reason, his eyes focused on what he saw behind them, a glowing, floating, four-part fortress and below it, a red giant, tossing aside a broken, metal goliath.

"Ah, now I see you, Betrayer," a voice boomed mockingly. "Perhaps you think this stalling will grant you the power you need, but you are wrong. The elven allies you rely on have betrayed  _you_ months hence and what other servants you have are not long for this world." The voice turned darker in its mocking and added: "Yes.  _You_ were betrayed."

Another figure leaped from what Maurus remembered was the Eye. Like the previous half dozen, it was darkness wreathed in flame, with massive bat wings that cut through the air and twin blades clutched in its hands. But it was far larger, allowing Maurus to make out the hooves it had instead of feet and the thick ram's horns curling up from its forehead.

Illidan, Lord of Outland, was hurtling toward his former master, Kil'jaeden, like a fiery arrow of vengeance.

The golden halo winked out and the gold-armored form was suddenly flung aside by a quick swing of Ven'Zarul's claws.

"You have finally lost your wits. But it is just as well you face the inevitable," Kil'jaeden boomed, voice amused. He raised a hand. "You cannot resist the Legion."

A tendril of black lighting lanced out, striking Illidan and sending him flying back. The fire instantly winked out and the glowing blades fell like dying stars, while Illidan soared through the air, the black lighting following his convulsing form. He vanished from sight as Maurus finally gained his hooves again, though he couldn't have landed that far from them, down the slope and Kil'jaeden followed, his massive form seeming to bear down on them.

"My mercy is at an end," Kil'jaeden said slowly. "As is your miserable life and that of every mortal in this valley."

Maurus felt a surge of despair, facing Ven'Zarul, who seemed a small twin of Kil'jaeden's confident form, soaked in blood and seemingly impervious to the enemies around him. Still, filled with rage, Maurus threw himself forward, growling in defiance and catching Ven'Zarul's gaze.

Another voice suddenly boomed out over the battlefield. It was deep and old and tired, a voice turned raw by time and pain and hate. "Before the Legion, I had a different name. The name my brother still bears. I now reclaim that name. You are at the heart of the storm, Deceiver. Feel my rage."

The ground shuddered, feeling like a wave passed beneath Maurus' hooves. The air felt the same way, the erratic winds suddenly flowing down the slope, as if something gargantuan was taking a deep breath. The beam from manaforge to Tempest Keep grew blinding and the corona around the Keep suddenly flared. Uncountable arcs of lightning leaped between the different parts of Tempest Keep, flashing and writhing, turning the entire Keep into a tiny sun. The ground heaved and tilted, and Maurus had to struggle just to avoid crushing the two trolls beside him as he was flung by the sudden tremor. And then, the world went white and a sound like the world cracking open boomed out over the valley.

Maurus cringed, his eyes burning and blind for a moment, his ears ringing painfully, the left one in particular feeling oddly hollow and wet. Despite the ringing, Maurus still heard the unearthly roar of disbelief and pain and enough of his vision returned just in time for him to gape as he watched the world change. Everyone, on the mountains, in the valley and in the sky, froze as the Kil'jaeden stood transfixed, pierced through the heart by a lance of lightning thicker than the trees in Ashenvale. His hands twitched uselessly and his roar deepened with agony as glowing cracks spread from the wound in his chest, and then his body came apart in an explosion that sent an enormous wall of flame rolling out into the valley.

"No!" For the first time Maurus had ever heard, there was neither hate nor malice in Ven'Zarul's voice. Instead there was just utter shock and a clear note of horror.

Maurus felt much the same, because the fire from Kil'jaeden's death spread with the speed of a storm, consuming everything in its path. He managed, however, to keep his wits and Ven'Zarul's exclamation made his focus snap back to his own battle. He hurled himself toward Ven'Zarul, who was still half-turned toward where his master had been standing.

Ven'Zarul whirled, but he still took a deep cut to in his inner thigh. His face was more feral than anything Maurus had ever seen and with acidic vehemence he spat a word, making fire roll out toward Maurus.

He felt and smelled the burning fur beneath his armor, but Arianna's enchantments took the edge off and he hurried through the flame, the pained screams around him stoking his rage.

Ven'Zarul took an unsteady step back, his badly bleeding thigh clearly struggling to hold his weight.

"Burn him!" Maurus roared. Spotting Slova, he added: "Frenzy."

Maurus charged without waiting for confirmation, but he felt the black hate flow into him, though it welled up just as much from inside him. He could taste blood in his mouth, feel his muscles straining painfully, but he didn't care, only bothering to keep his wits in order to inflict as much pain on Ven'Zarul as possible.

If the others around him hadn't attacked in unison as well, Ven'Zarul would probably have ripped him apart. He attacked recklessly, swinging his axe in sweeping strikes that would have overbalanced him had he not been bursting with strength. Distantly, he noted that the frontline had taken advantage of the distraction of Kil'jaeden's death and that they were pushing the demons back, truly isolating Ven'Zarul, but he didn't care much. His eyes were on Ven'Zarul and three weakly moving bodies behind him. He didn't quite know why he was trying to push Ven'Zarul toward them, but he did and with Crava and Rilli at his sides, he had Ven'Zarul on the back-hoof.

At least he thought he did. Suddenly, a low sweeping blow came up toward Maurus' throat. He could see it coming and he desperately tried to twist in the eternal moment, but knew it was futile.

Then, Arianna's voice rang out and blazing bonds wrapped around Ven'Zarul's arm and the claws halted inches from Maurus' throat. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he recognized the greenish-white chains, but his only overt response was to finish his evasion before bringing his axe down on Ven'Zarul's leg again.

Ven'Zarul fell to one knee as the bonds evaporated and Maurus leaped back to avoid his claws, cursing his inability to finish the dreadlord. He felt the cold fingers of despair, as the pain in his limbs rapidly grew, telling him that the frenzy was ebbing and that he would be left almost crippled.

A burst of glee hit him like sun bursting out from a cloud when he suddenly noticed movement at Ven'Zarul's hooves. Mathias rolled over onto his belly and leaped at Ven'Zarul, uncaring of the gaping wound in his side. He landed on Ven'Zarul's back and hauled himself up tohis shoulders in spite of the dreadlord's furious attempt to shake him off. He plunged the bony fingers of his right hand down into Ven'Zarul's shoulder and his face appeared over Ven'Zarul's other shoulder, eyes blazing with hate and lips parted in a feral snarl before he bit down. Holding on with teeth and claw, his bone-hilted dagger rose and fell with manic fury, frantically stabbing and searching for flesh as Ven'Zarul shook himself in fury.

"Casters!" Maurus roared, "Burn him!"

Despite his order, Maurus resumed his attack, feeling the air grow heavy and electric as the casters obeyed and unleashed an onslaught of magic on Ven'Zarul. Distracted and robbed of his mobility by Mathias and the leg-wound, Ven'Zarul almost vanished behind the fingers of lightning, the bursts of flame and shadow and the mist and steam from the ice bolts.

Breaking through the cloud, Maurus saw Ven'Zarul shake Mathias off, his face a mask of rage and pain. Blood covered much of his throat and shoulders and was still flowing from the wounds Mathias had inflicted. Moreover, every visible bit of skin was blackened by burns, frost-bite or rotting corruption and his armor was beginning to crack and warp.

He was still moving though and Maurus, Rilli and Crava hurried forward, only their attacks stopping the dreadlord from stomping his hoof down through Mathias' breastplate. And even so wounded, taking another, smaller flurry of lightning to his chest, his attacks were fast and deadly, breaking Rilli's leg and only missing Crava's head because of Maurus putting his axe through his arm. A whip-crack motion of his wing downed Crava anyway and a word and a gesture sent an unearthly wailing mist of sleep rolling over Maurus.

Maurus was in too much pain to feel more than the slightest shade of sluggishness, but the chanting behind him stopped and Ven'Zarul attacked Maurus in earnest.

He ducked and blocked, feeling Ven'Zarul's blows carve shreds of metal off his armor, send rings flying from his mail and bruise and rend his flesh, but bleeding and hobbled, the dreadlord was finally slow enough that Maurus could keep up. Despite the exhaustion in his body, he was finally on something like equal footing with the dreadlord.

That was fortunate. Maurus had little attention to spare, but he did notice that everywhere around him, his soldiers were holding the line against Ven'Zarul's demons, fighting with defiant fury while the best of his healers were sitting clustered around the wounded, lit as if by green and golden campfires. Every survivor not in immediate need of healing was adding what they could to the battle, throwing what magic or random projectiles they could at the enemy, despite broken bones and weeping wounds.

Maurus caught a claw on the haft of his axe, pushing back and shifting the weight off him. He barely dodged the follow-up blow, but then Ven'Zarul flinched. Mathias slumped down on the left of Ven'Zarul, leaving his sword stuck to the hilt in his knee and Maurus was able to dodge the next attack so thoroughly that he reversed his swing in time to lop off three of Ven'Zarul's fingers.

In return, Ven'Zarul threw his other hand up toward Maurus, but instead of the claws, Maurus was faced with fel fire.

He closed his eyes and jerked back, swinging his axe wildly as he felt his fur burning and his skin char. He was lucky he did, because he also felt Ven'Zarul's claws raking at his breastplate, but the wounds were finally taking their toll and when Maurus opened his eyes, Ven'Zarul almost overbalanced.

Maurus was not able to reverse his swing quickly enough. His strength was failing too, the only thing keeping him standing being rage and sheer, stubborn will and the knowledge that the casters were all too close to Ven'Zarul still. But Ven'Zarul didn't recover. His leg buckled and as he fell to one knee, Arianna's voice rang to Maurus' right, like music despite the Eredun being spoken with raw pain.

A noose of green-white fire formed around Ven'Zarul's throat, forcing him down so he had to catch himself on his bloody hands to avoid falling.

Feeling triumph war with exhaustion and pain, Maurus stepped up beside the visibly struggling Ven'Zarul, not daring to look at the source of the demonic binding despite his aching need, and raised his axe.

Despite the burning noose, Ven'Zarul managed to turn one eye toward Maurus. His body was a ruin, bleeding and burned by half a dozen kinds of magic, but no pain was visible on his face. There was only a deep, dark, terrible hatred: "This is not the end. Your fate will be a curse. Your world will burn, your bodies broken and your souls will be the playthings of the felhounds."

"Your threats are as empty as your future," Maurus growled, but it was a struggle to ignore Ven'Zarul's eyes, filled with a bottomless, malicious certainty.

The noose vanished suddenly and for a moment, shock froze Maurus. Ven'Zarul's body slumped, his muscles no longer straining, but before either of them could recover, a purple beam struck Ven'Zarul's chest and he let out a pained gasp. Both he and Maurus followed the beam, to where Arianna was. Her face was a mess of blood, her right eye swollen shut. One hand was awkwardly holding her up, pressed against her blood-drenched side, but her other arm was outstretched and firm, her hand wreathed in the purple energy.

"No!" Ven'Zarul gasped, digging his claws into the dirt, his entire body coiling with frantic strength.

This time, Maurus was quicker. His axe fell with all his strength and fury and the head cleaved through burned and withered flesh. Ven'Zarul's desperate leap became a stumble, the corpse slackening as it slid across the purple dirt, blackening it with pulses of dark ichor. The head rolled over the falling corpse, landing behind it, just beside Maurus, its expression of pure desperation slackening almost immediately.

The purple beam winked out and in Arianna's hand, a shard of pure black formed, pulsing with dark energy. Keeping a white-knuckled grip on the crystal, Arianna slumped again, face contorted in agony.

Suddenly without an opponent, Maurus took stock. He was standing in a wide circle of bloody ruin, Ven'Zarul the only enemy dead in a ring of the Torn Wing's dead and wounded. Maurus didn't dare think how many of the broken bones were caused by heavy hooves rather than enemy claws.

They were surrounded by the still fighting Torn Wing, a little under a hundred warriors, casters and shamans, composed almost equally of orcs, elves and trolls. The fight was still bitter and merciless, neither side looking close to caving, but the enemy seemed to lose quite a few in a few moments and Maurus realized with a start that Ven'Zarul's blood magic had made them overconfident.

Glancing back to Arianna, Maurus quickly spotted Wiven and Mathias close by and Calen a little further away, slowly dragging himself toward Wiven, his armor more red than gold now. Seeing the carnage, and his love and friends terribly wounded, his stomach felt like a yawning, churning chasm and he acutely felt his wounds and torn muscles. He wanted to rush to Arianna's side or to collapse beside Ven'Zarul's corpse, but instead, he bent and gripped Ven'Zarul's head by its remaining horn.

"Hunters of the Torn Wing! We have our quarry! The dreadlord is dead," he roared, rising to his full height and holding the head aloft and. There was a moment where just the clamor of battle reigned and then, the eyes of the demons all turned to him, eyes wide with despair, rage and fear.

The Torn Wing let out a roar, a primal and savage thing that rolled down the mountain and tipped the balance. The demons and fel orcs broke, fleeing down the slope in complete disorder.

"Hold," Maurus roared, as he saw the front line start forward. "Hold, or I'll flay you. Healers, get to work! Everyone else, bandages, potions, anything."

Seeming to wake from a daze, his soldiers shook themselves and it took a few moments of repeated shouts from Maurus and the other officers before everyone followed his orders.

Only then, when he saw the formation fall apart into hurried activity, did Maurus allow himself to slump and hurry back to Arianna and the others.

Everything hurt and his muscles would barely obey, but he forced himself forward, dropping his axe and fumbling for his health stone as melodious chanting joined the choir of pain in the air.

He fell to his knees beside Arianna, vision blurring, and it took everything he had not to snarl at Calen to turn the golden glow on her instead of on the mangled Wiven. Arianna was on her back, eyes closed and breathing shallow, her skin pale. She was still clutching the dark crystal with her right hand while her other strained to hold the remains of her robe tight around her bloody side, but as he inspected her, he realized that her wound had been closed with the tell-tale ugly scars that the health stones caused.

He pulled close the tattered robe with one hand, while his other padded around her waist, seeking the feeling of glass or stone.

"You're the long-lived one," he croaked, his heart pounding, his body's pain a distant second to the torn feeling in his chest as he found no potions or health stones. "Don't you dare die now we've come this far!"

His throat felt tight. Arianna's face was so, so pale and her robe was black with blood. The health stone was a crude method of healing and even if it had sealed the wound, the blood loss or internal damage could still be too much.

"Calen," he croaked.

"I think she'll make it till we have hands to spare," Calen answered, words clipped and quick before he resumed his healing chant.

Maurus had to grit his teeth to avoid snapping at him, his mind conjuring dark suspicions about the paladin purposefully choosing the mage over the warlock, but Maurus fought them down. It was surprisingly easy, as he simply didn't have the energy.

A pair of boots appeared in the corner of his eyes.

"Boss."

"You have your orders," Maurus said, not looking up, silently begging Arianna to open her eyes.

"But, Boss-"

Maurus felt something in his chest unfurl into a roaring dragon and his head snapped up. His mouth opened in order to roar his denial at Zilja but at the last moment, shock and a shred of self-control strangled the impulse.

The Netherstorm was still. There was no lightning and the eternal, purple cloud cover had ceased roiling and become a calm sea of clouds instead, like just before the rains in the Barrens.

Maurus' gaze dropped to Tempest Keep, which looked like it had been the target of hundreds of siege weapons. The crystals had shattered and the pristine, marble-like walls had cracked and blackened, crumbling to rubble in places. All four wings were tilting like trees about to fall and slowly sinking toward the blackened ground where Kil'jaeden had stood, emitting thick, strange smoke and flickering with wild lightning. The manaforge was a ruin, blown apart from within.

And in the valley, the battle had changed. Kil'jaeden's death had shaken the Legion forces badly, not to mention annihilated a large portion of those to the east and as Maurus watched, he realized that what remained of the naga, as well as the traitor blood elves, were also attacking the demons. The demons and fel orcs trapped between blood elves and Horde cavalry were being massacred, the demons to the north and west were withdrawing. Surviving Alliance and Horde, both previously imperiled on three fronts, had regained their balance and already, formations were beginning to pursue the retreating Legion forces.

Maurus blinked, dizzy from everything, and regained a small bit of his composure.

"Send runners up and down the slope. See what help you can get us. And post sentries."

"Dabu," Zilja answered, quickly retreating over the rumbling ground.

Now that he had looked away, Maurus dreaded turning back to Arianna, so instead, he glanced out over his wounded unit. Everybody was hard at work, dozens of little glows rising around him, but even with his abundance of healers, he doubted they could save all those who weren't too far gone. Glancing back toward Ven'Zarul, he felt a mix of revulsion, faint relief and worry when he spotted Mathias. His friend was hunched over the dreadlord's corpse, black flesh between his teeth, face bloody and eyes distant and Maurus immediately began to wonder whether Mathias could lose his mind and whether he should try to snap him out of it, but he couldn't make himself move.

Yet he couldn't make himself move away from Arianna. "Come on, love," he murmured. "What good are your noxious magics if they can't even take you through this?"

His eyes snapped to Arianna when he felt her move and enormous relief made his chest feel tight when he saw that her eyes had opened slightly. Still clutching the crystal in her right hand, she lifted her left toward him, her mouth twisted with effort and a low murmur spilled from her lips.

He gasped when acid-green tendrils bloomed between them and cold fingers slipped down his throat, spreading cold like he had jumped into an icy sea. His heart hammered as warmth and breath was sucked from his chest and he had to place a hand on the ground to keep from falling over from the sudden increase in his exhaustion. His other hand clenched of its own volition, ready to lash out, but he didn't move, simply staring down into Arianna's eyes.

The light faded after a handful of heartbeats and Maurus heaved in a desperate breath. His arm and legs trembled under his suddenly enormous weight and he dropped onto his rear beside her.

"Sorry."

Arianna's voice was a weak croak, but it was music to Maurus ears. Looking at her, he felt his heart soar, despite the effort he felt it was to breathe, because her breaths came much easier and there was more color in her face.

"Were you just waiting for your cue?" Maurus asked, his wry question belied by his relieved voice and the way he immediately reached out to clasp her hand.

"Are you alright?" she asked. For once, there was no pretense of aloofness, only honest concern.

Maurus had to fight a moment's dizziness before he could answer and the hesitation made Arianna's eyes widen with concern.

"Pretty sure I'll live," he said, squeezing her hand and pulling her into a hug. He couldn't feel her much through the armor and her slight weight actually hurt his abused muscles, but despite that and the carnage and the stink of battle, everything was right for a short moment as she sat, quietly breathing, in his arms.

He couldn't and wouldn't shut out the world for long though and as he looked over his head, he asked: "Are you well enough to make some more stones?"

He felt her shift in his arms and suppressed a wince. She sighed without heat and pushed herself up from the embrace. "Never a moment's rest with you, is there?" she asked.

Maurus groaned as he pushed himself to his feet as well, feeling like his entire body was cramping. "No rest for the wicked," he answered tiredly and as Arianna murmured, green motes appearing in her hand, he turned and staggered toward Mathias.


	29. The Long Road

Chasing Through Hell

The Long Road

Mathias had often boasted that he expected to win if he and Maurus ever were to truly fight and Maurus had never been completely sure that he was wrong. But that had always been dependent on Mathias' skill.

Now, feral from his wounds and inattentive as he fed, Mathias was no match for Maurus and it was simple to grab him and hold his arms against his upper body. Maurus even did it with just one arm. It was not pleasant though. His body hurt, Mathias was covered in gore and worse and the melancholy that was settling in after the battle was made worse by the sting Maurus felt at seeing his friend snarl and struggle like a rabid cat. He clenched his jaw against mental and physical aches and lifted a hand to Mathias' face and as he had expected, Mathias instantly snapped at it. Dressed in mail, his hand was safe from Mathias' bloody teeth, but the health stone he had gotten from Arianna became dust in Mathias' mouth.

As Maurus waited for the magic to take effect, he let his gaze wander over the battlefield around him and found that the sight was no easier to stomach than his worry for Mathias' mind. So instead, he turned his attention back to Mathias and shook him.

"Mathias?" he barked. "You all there?"

Seemingly provoked by the shake, Mathias renewed his struggle and Maurus felt a surge of worry.

"Mathias? Damn you, man, get a hold of yourself. Mathias!"

A few repeats of his name and several shakes did not seem to do much, so Maurus took a chance and loosened his hold.

As expected, Mathias immediately tried escaping, slipping low and turning, but Maurus was expecting it. He grabbed Mathias again, both of his massive hands clamping Mathias' arms to his sides, now turned so they were face to face.

"Mathias!" he barked again, worry coming out in a growl. "Look at me!"

Several long moments passed before Mathias' dead eyes lit with a spark of recognition and Maurus felt intense relief as his friend slackened in his grip.

"Earthmother be praised," Maurus murmured, slackening his grip, only to tighten it again when he felt Mathias wobble. Truth be told, Maurus felt plenty wobbly himself, so he carefully guided Mathias to sit down before slumping down on the ground.

"How are you feeling?" Maurus asked.

"Light," Mathias muttered, his expression a grimace of self-loathing. "I-"

His voice trailed off.

"You were cut up," Maurus said bluntly. "You-" He was about to say 'lived' but thought better of it, considering Mathias' sometimes prickly attitude to such phrasing. "You made it."

"We made it," Mathias said. His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath as his expression grew frantic. "Zarul, he-"

Maurus grinned darkly.

"He's there," he said, pointing at Mathias' stomach. "There." He pointed at Ven'Zarul's corpse before indicating the spot where he had dropped Ven'Zarul's head. "And over there."

Mathias looked stunned and Maurus found himself genuinely and fondly amused at his friend's complete bafflement.

"We did it," Mathias said, voice quiet and surprised.

Maurus put a hand on Mathias' shoulder. "Told you we would. My word is good."

A small, tired, but content smile appeared on Mathias' face. The expression, so different from his usual grins, looked strange on him, making him look years younger, but Maurus was glad to see it.

Mathias looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap. Then he blinked and looked out over the battlefield, eyes widening as he saw the expanse of blackened rock. Maurus followed his gaze and was once again struck by the strange mix of sorrow and triumph as he looked out over the valley. He couldn't even guess at the number of dead down in the valley, and if he had developed any eye for it, the forces pursuing the demons were token at best. Tempest Keep was still drifting down, like slowly sinking ships, but Maurus knew the distance made speed hard to judge and he doubted the Keeps would be much use after they came to ground. Which meant they had a long, perilous slog ahead of them.

But Ven'Zarul lay dead beside them and in the center of the blackened battlefield lay the massive, shattered bones of the Legion's general.

"Did they really destroy Kil'jaeden?" Mathias asked.

"Looks like it," Maurus said.

Mathias took a deep breath, clearly steadying himself. "Garm," he said, quietly. "Your spirit can rest. You are avenged, manifold."

Maurus nodded, mouthing his own prayer for the orc Mathias had cared for so deeply. He was somewhat surprised when Mathias said several other names, speaking in a language he had never heard him use before: Common.

Feeling suddenly like he was intruding, Maurus looked everywhere but at Mathias. All around him, healers and dabblers in first aid were struggling with the wounded. Drunnya and Shayla and all their colleagues were pockets of golden and green light on the purple slope. Arianna, Slova and the other warlocks were walking between the clusters of wounded, their hands glowing a more sickly green than the light that the shamans and druids created and Calen was finally rising from beside Wiven, pulling him up to a sitting position. Wiven looked woozy and black with blood and bruises, but there was color in his cheeks and his breathing was steady.

Maurus felt a surge of relief. In truth, he had probably talked with Mathias almost as much to distract himself as to ascertain Mathias' mental health, but with Wiven and many others already looking better, it was not so daunting to face the aftermath. Even if the air was still filled with the moans of pain and the stench of death.

Maurus still did not get up though, even though he thought he ought to. He didn't trust his legs to support him anymore and he doubted he would look much like a leader if he collapsed. Better to look like he had decided to watch than to show them weakness.

"All the people I've lost to the Legion's plots."

Mathias' words brought Maurus' gaze back to him and after a moment, he nodded soberly. There wasn't anything he could say to that. Compared to most people around him, probably most people in the Horde, Maurus had lived a charmed life. Sometimes, he almost felt bad for that.

"Thank you," Mathias said.

Maurus blinked. On some level, Mathias' words made sense, but on the whole, he felt like he owed more to his more experienced friend than his friend owed him.

"You're welcome," he said, after some consideration. Putting a bit of bravado into his voice, he added: "It was a fine hunt."

At that, Mathias pushed himself to his feet and Maurus watched him curiously. He didn't go far, only six steps, stooping to pick up Ven'Zarul's head before returning, seating himself and placing it in front of Maurus.

"Your trophy. Though I guess it will be a little while before you can boil it."

Maurus looked down at the slack expression of Ven'Zarul and for a moment felt nothing but satisfaction.

Then he looked up the slope, where he saw Sroku, jogging alongside Ba'ril and Devan. It seemed his rearguard had decided to stay by the artillery just in case but he would have to hear Ba'ril to be sure. Thinking of what the news might be made dread swirl in his belly but there was nothing for it. He turned and waited patiently for them to approach.

It wasn't as bad as he had feared. Seranna had thought ahead and moved as many as at all possible to the shelter of the arch they had crossed before they met the artillery and Braga and his men had scattered when the demons attacked. In total, the flying demons had only claimed three lives from those Maurus had left behind, far fewer than the force that had continued down the hill.

Even they had suffered fewer losses than Maurus had feared, though the death toll was still hard to bear. In total, the Torn Wing had lost fifty-two that day, around a sixth of their number and the survivors bore so many wounds that the healers had to focus on getting them all on their feet, rather than fixing them properly, because they soon got word that there would be only a night's rest before the army moved on. That meant that the Torn Wing went down into the valley in a slow, limping slog.

The break, and another healthstone from Arianna, had rejuvenated Maurus to the degree that he could shamble along. He even had enough energy that when he spotted a circle of hippogyphs and wyverns not long from their path, he went over to investigate with Mathias and Arianna.

He hadn't seen a hippogryph up close since Ashenvale and he had almost forgotten how fearsome they were. The blood in their claws and the scars on their bodies only added to that impression. Their riders, all of them night elves, were similarly bloodied. They were taller and more powerfully built than Arianna and her kin and in their bearing and armor, Maurus recognized confident strength and a willingness to use it. So when one with a badly healed, notched ear ordered him to stop, he complied, though he stepped a few paces to the side so he could look past them.

The flyers had arranged themselves in a tight ring around the broken body of Illidan Stormrage. The Betrayer lay in a shallow crater that spoke of the force with which he had crashed. The air smelled of burn flesh and hair, no wonder considering the state of him. Deep, crackly burns formed swirling marks on his body, fingers of black-scorched flesh radiating out from them. His wings were torn, lying like a tattered cape beneath him and his right arm was bent at an unnatural angle, a piece of sharp bone poking from his forearm. Despite all this, there was a strange piece to the demonic figure. Instead of being frozen in pain, his expression was relaxed in death, almost content, and his blindfold looked almost like a small funeral mask, shrouding his eyes.

For a while, they simply looked on the dead demon hunter. No-one spoke and the only sounds were the howling of the wind, the sounds of the Torn Wing moving nearby and the snorts and chirps of wyvern and hippogryph. The quiet surroundings were a stark contrast to what Maurus felt. His gut whirled with a dizzying mix of emotions; sorrow, pity, hate, disgust and admiration while his mind jumped from one thought to the next and the death and atrocities he had seen throughout Outland flashed through his mind. Twisted orcs, too big for their actual age, dead in their cots. Dark laboratories in Hellfire Citadel. Beaten, broken draenei. Far, far too many dead allies, thousands of them in the valley below.

But a calmer part of him realized that Illidan had saved the Horde and the Alliance in the Netherstorm. A situation of his own making, true, one that had taken thousands of deaths to create, but probably still, a successful, coldly executed gambit that had dealt the Legion the worst blow since Hyjal and left it without either of the leaders who had led it for millennia.

In the end, Illidan had done much like Hellscream, except that there had been much more cold logic behind the death Illidan had created. Hellscream's life on the other hand had been a savage blundering up until that final confrontation.

Did the cold logic make it better or worse?

Eventually, Maurus found his voice and said: "He died like Hellscream, destroying the demon who corrupted him."

His tone was calm and much more respectful than he felt. He didn't feel the Betrayer deserved the peace he showed and it was all he could do not to spit at him, no matter what his reason told him.

"A far better death than most who fall," Arianna agreed. Maurus glanced at her and felt a bit better at seeing some of the same turmoil in her eyes, despite her composed voice. There was a bit of admiration in her voice when she added: "Felling Kil'jaeden. Incredible."

"I think the Dark Lady would approve," Mathias said, apparently having thought along lines similar to Maurus. His grin was absent though and as he fell silent, his lips peeled back to reveal clenched teeth. More quietly, apparently trying to be mindful of the night elves, he added: "Good that he's dead though. Otherwise, he'd have to die."

The night elves did hear, judging by their sudden stares, but they made no move toward Maurus and the others, so he ignored them.

He looked at Mathias and nodded slowly, feeling his swirling emotions calm. His friend was right, but it was an odd conclusion, so unlike how Maurus usually thought.

He turned away from the scene and began walking back to the Torn Wing.

"Strange," he said, after a few steps. "Can you be a hero and deserve execution?"

"Rarely is it so clear," Arianna said. She sounded thoughtful and only when he noticed where her gaze was, on the shattered Tempest Keep, did he realize what recent events might mean to her. What it might say about the supposed blood elf traitors and what their fates might be.

"Don't get your hopes up," Maurus said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. It was a slight struggle to keep anger from his voice when he added: "Good intentions matter little against blood."

He was surprised when she didn't shrug it off.

"I know," she said, voice grave. "I'm not hoping. But I  _will_  know the full story."

Maurus nodded, as satisfied as he could be with things as they were. Mathias was right and had any traitor blood elves survived, they probably wouldn't be welcomed into the Horde.

Then again, the Warsong had been forgiven. Time would tell.

* * *

 

Despite their terrible losses, the armies of the Alliance and Horde got moving the very next morning, as planned. Tempest Keep was destroyed, broken by the energy it had channeled and the subsequent crash, so the armies turned back, to go back across the rough islands of the Netherstorm. The knowledge that the Legion forces would only be in disarray for a while, as well as the worrying earthquakes, urged them to hurry and the collapse of several mountainsides during the first days of marching silenced any complaints about the hurried pace.

A few days into the march, rumors spread about Illidari blood elves who had surrendered themselves to the Horde. Fearing what they would have to tell, Maurus kept close to Arianna when she sought access to the captives. She was denied, but the captives' claims were quickly released to the rest of the army anyway.

Maurus was guiltily thankful when the question of what would happen to Kael'thas was rendered moot by his apparent death in the battle now called Storm's End. His guilt was eased slightly by the claims of Nethermancer Sepetrea, one of the captive blood elves. She insisted that Kael'thas had lured Kil'jaden to the battle by claiming the Keep would enormously empower Illidan rather than work as a weapon.

Once again, he couldn't convince himself that the end goal justified the sacrifice and so he could no more forgive Kael'thas than he could Illidan. But he was thankful for the relief the news brought to Arianna, even if she was still troubled by the knowledge that the vast majority of the illidari blood elves hadn't been in on the treachery and that most protesters had probably been killed to keep up appearances.

It was a strange, melancholy end to Arianna's quest to find her kin, yet it was still far better than the impression of utter betrayal they had gotten before. Her faith in the prince had not been entirely misplaced and Maurus was thankful for any outcome that made her happier.

As if they had needed more motivation, Sepetrea also urged them to leave the isles as quickly as possible, claiming they were unstable and she was proven right after two days of ever more frequent quakes. They had just reached Isle B'naar when the news spread that the entire eastern half of Isle Duro had collapsed into the storm.

With the ground literally crumbling beneath their feet, it was a testament to the discipline that the gathered army had developed that none of the faster divisions sped ahead, leaving the slower, main force alone.

Demons harassed them as they traversed Isle B'naar, though the attacks were clearly more attempts at slowing them than dealing them real damage. Maurus wasn't surprised. Their enemies were probably as eager to leave the Netherstorm as they were and thinking back to when the Horde had entered the Storm, he expected the Legion forces to regroup at at the border to Blade's Edge. After all, if the collapse continued, the Legion could destroy the Alliance and Horde forces just by preventing them from leaving.

He  _was_ surprised when they made it out of the Netherstorm with little trouble. A significant force crossed the chasm by zeppelin, attacking the bridges along with forces from Blade's Edge, but even that was not enough to explain how badly organized the forces at the bridges were. The zeppelins should at the very least have lost some of their number to the demons, but they all made it in one piece.

The inklings of an explanation quickly solidified though, with input from Arianna, Mathias, Drim and Drunnya. The fel orcs embodied some of the basest aspects of orc culture, combined with more rage and aggression than Horde orcs. The sudden reversal of allegiances and the loss of a number of strong leaders, and probably many of their best, who had ridden the netherdrakes, meant the fel orc armies had devolved into power struggles, leaving little room for organized activity.

The demons were most likely facing similar problems, even if they were better organized. Without their top leader, the eredar and nathrezim were probably as bad as the fel orcs when there was power up for grabs.

It was the same conclusion Croaker voiced when Arianna's associates convened a day later. Maurus was once again sitting beside Arianna, facing a circle of warlocks, mages and priests. Last time he had been vaguely uncomfortable, though he had done his best not to show it. This time he felt at ease, completely confident in his place beside Arianna, with Ven'Zarul's stripped skull in his lap. The cup of wine he had been given by Croaker also didn't hurt, more for the small token of acceptance than for the drink itself.

The tent was almost comfortable, pleasantly warm and still compared to the chill winds outside and filled with the smell of roasted warpstalker and a heavy, sweet scent of pipe smoke.

Then again, he might just feel at ease because the attention was on Arianna and Mathias rather than on him.

Neither of them showed any unease though. It occurred to him that the looks Arianna got seemed almost exasperated and suddenly, it reminded Maurus of the annoyance Grima had shown toward Tolu whenever he brought another stray back to the camp. The thought almost brought an amused smile to his lips, but he stopped it with a bit of effort as Arianna finished her briefing.

"I didn't think you would actually succeed," Speaker said. His boyish voice was unapologetic. "Well done."

Maurus almost snorted derisively, only restraining himself for Arianna's sake and because there had been a note of grudging respect in Speaker's voice.

Arianna, on the other hand, bowed her head modestly, though Maurus caught a glint in her eye which her bangs hid from Speaker.

"You still haven't explained why he is here though," Speaker said, nodding at Mathias.

Mathias smiled at him, a challenge rather than anything friendly and Speaker's eyes narrowed.

"I think I have," Arianna said bluntly. "But to elaborate, this was as much his hunt as ours. I would have done this earlier, but ending Ven'Zarul wasn't something I thought should be seen by everyone."

As Maurus looked at her, suddenly feeling coldly uneasy, she added wryly: "We warlocks aren't well-liked as it is."

Speaker nodded at that, while several of the red-robed orcs snorted.

"Some say the dreadlords are immortal, merely returning to the Twisting Nether when killed," Arianna said. Maurus could see several warlocks right themselves, obviously about to speak but Arianna held up a hand and they subsided. Then she pulled her other hand from her bag and raised the black crystal she had created when Ven'Zarul died. All eyes locked on the crystal and a sudden tension filled the room. "Ven'Zarul had no chance to escape though."

Her eyes burned with a dark intensity as she looked around, meeting gazes one by one. Speaker met her eyes easily, looking almost bored. The other warlocks' gazes seemed more interested, while the rest of the tent's occupants seemed vaguely uncomfortable. Croaker and the others Maurus had pegged as priests looked uncomfortable, but stubbornly determined. Mathias' expression was one of complete and utter focus, his pale eyes seeming to glow brighter than usual.

When Arianna finally met Maurus' eyes, he felt a slight hitch in his breath, finding her eyes eerily similar to the ones he had seen in some of his nightmares.

"Ven'Zarul is never returning," she said with hard finality, lowering her hand and offering the soulstone to Ash, who had been lying beside her, uncharacteristically quiet. A hush fell over the tent as his bony jaws opened wide and black dust flowed off the stone as if a wind was eroding it. After a moment, the stone cracked and then fell apart, the shards dissolving and flowing into the demon's mouth like black smoke.

Maurus felt a cold shiver despite the satisfaction he felt when Ash closed his jaws and began to rumble contentedly. If anyone deserved that fate, it was Ven'Zarul, who had probably subjected others to the same, but it was still just plain evil. The fact that Arianna's profession allowed her to exert such power over the spirits of others was horrifying and it was a stark reminder that there was a side to her he would probably never quite be at peace with. Yet he also couldn't deny that her strength was one of the things that drew him to her, both her magical might and her strength of character. It was an impressive feat to wield such horrible power and still manage to be mostly good and honorable.

For those reasons, he was glad he kept his feelings from his face and managed to merely nod soberly at Arianna.

"Now we just need to do that to all of the nathrezim," Speaker said dryly."However many of them there are."

"Least we 'ave worwhy work t'do," Carver said, swallowing most of the syllables of 'worthwhile'.

"That brings the next point," Arianna said. "I'm done. Is there a new assignment?"

Maurus felt a sudden chill when he realized what she was saying. He wasn't sure, but she might just accept any assignment, even if it required infiltration and separation from him. That was not something he had considered and he was woefully unprepared for the idea.

Croaker waved a lazy hand. "This isn't really the time to break off on your own. We're leaving assassination to the Shadows for now, though it is good to see your enthusiasm." She glanced at Maurus. "Stick with the Torn Wing for now. It's a good place to be."

Instant relief flooded Maurus, but he wasn't so preoccupied that he missed the slight relaxation in Arianna's shoulders and that made a spark of warmth appear in his chest.

"Thank you," Arianna said, nodding respectfully.

"Keep an eye out," Speaker said. He glanced at Mathias and Maurus and added: "You too. The war is too precarious for us to allow traitors to disrupt things."

Maurus held back a snort. That went without saying. Sensing the dismissal, he made a point of glancing at Arianna but when she made no reaction to Speaker's tone, he remained seated. Mathias didn't move either.

Speaker's mouth thinned to a line and his eyes flicked left and right before his expression turned blank.

Maurus restrained a smirk, deciding that there was no need to rub it in. The narrowed eyes of Speaker told him that he either had been less successful at concealing his feelings or, more likely, that Mathias hadn't bothered to contain his. 

No-one commented on the little silent display and the meeting continued and as it stretched out over a long couple of hours, Maurus almost regretted staying. With nothing to add and little context for what he heard, boredom set in quickly and he was relieved when Arianna finally said her goodbyes and lead them out of the tent.

They had not gotten far away from the tent when Mathias stopped and Maurus and Arianna turned to consider him curiously.

They found him for once standing fully upright, reminding Maurus of the footmen he had seen on the Path of Glory. He put a hand to his chest with a sharp gesture and bowed at the waist.

Maurus blinked and when he glanced at Arianna, her eyebrows were raised high.

"Thank you," Mathias said, straightening. His expression and his voice were as solemn as Maurus had ever seen him as he went on: "I have doubted you both many times. That is my shame. You have given me a more complete vengeance than I could ever have hoped."

Maurus actually felt a tiny lump form in his throat while his chest swelled with accomplishment.

"I gave my word, my friend," Maurus said. He matched Mathias' tone, ignoring the professed doubt about his honor and ability and the urge to speak a clear 'I told you so'.

Arianna simply looked taken aback for a moment before she nodded.

"I am glad I could help, Mathias," Arianna said. She huffed out a breath and added in a wry tone: "I never thought I would speak those words to an undead."

"The world grows stranger by the year," Mathias said, the solemness fading from his features and his grin returning. Something remained different however, and it took Maurus a few moments to figure out what. It was something that had begun during the march back across the Netherstorm, but only now when it had become much stronger did he really notice it. The intensity in Mathias' eyes had simply changed, becoming something brighter and his grin was just a tad softer than it usually was.

That realization, as well as the minor satisfaction of their tacit acceptance into Arianna's group, made him smile and his steps felt another degree lighter as they walked back to camp.

* * *

 

Without the search for Ven'Zarul and Arianna's kin to focus on, the war blurred together for Maurus as they fought their way back through Draenor. The forces in Blade's Edge hadn't been idle, managing to survive while also making overtures at the ogres and doing some risky goading of the Gronn. The end result was that the disorganized Legion forces were expelled from the mountains and their portals closed.

The reinforcements from Hellfire had met a wall in Zangarmarsh, but Maurus later learned that a wave of assassinations among the Legion forces had shaken their stranglehold on the marsh and the forces returning from Nagrand and Blade's Edge dealt the final blow to that.

It was a long, grueling fight before they got that victory though and even after that, it took another year before they pushed the demons back to the crumbling edges of Outland. By that time, the isles of the Netherstorm were gone, along with a chunk of Blade's Edge and many smaller areas along the borders of Draenor. Illidan's gambit, as well as the opened portals, had badly strained the broken world and by the time the Torn Wing turned toward the Portal, they were not just joined by Horde and Alliance but also by much of Outland's population, among them Mag'har, Broken Draenei, Ogres and smaller groups of stranger creatures.

The mass exodus was chaotic, the fate of the immigrants uncertain, but Maurus found himself not caring much, the prospect of going home overshadowing his worries.

Finally, after nearly two years, he climbed the steps to the Portal with Arianna and the others and stepped into the swirling vortex of stars and fel.

Scattered impressions pummeled Maurus' mind as he floated through the void, seeing strange blobs of color from many different angles. Time stretched out till he was sure he would disintegrate completely and then everything swirled into coherence again. His insides roiled as his hooves hit stone and he staggered forward a few steps. The nausea was not half as bad as it had been going the other way though and the dizziness in his head vanished almost completely when he drew in his first lungful of air. The air was dusty and hot, but there was barely a trace of fel on it compared to Hellfire, and it was like surfacing from a deep dive, the relief of drawing breath into starved lungs. At the same time, his mind cleared, like he had stepped out from a stuffy room and gotten shocked awake by the chilly air.

He took another greedy breath, expelling it in a sigh as he moved toward the slope leading down from the Portal.

Behind him, his soldiers materialized. Staggering footsteps and unhappy gurgles told him that not all of them were dealing with the transition as well as he was and with a wide grin, he shouted at them: "Keep going. Don't block the path, you can puke as you walk."

"You're suddenly lively," Arianna said. She was walking beside him, having stepped through the Portal with him, along with Mathias, Wiven and Widget.

"I didn't know-," he began amiably, trailing off when the retching from behind became a wet, splattering sound and a furious, disgusted curse.

Before Maurus could turn around to stop what was probably a fight in the making, the voice of Calen broke in: "Keep moving."

Maurus wasn't sure if Calen had done something or if it was just his tone, but when he looked back, the puke-stained orc was hurrying forward, edging away from the other orc, who was wiping his mouth.

Turning back around as they began descending the slope, he said: "I never thought I could miss air this foul. It's good to be home."

"I'm going to miss it," Wiven said. He was looking wistfully at the small flames playing above his fingertips.

Widget punched him lightly in the hip. "You'll deal."

"Not if these two are as infuriating as they were last time," he said, though his tone was light.

"Can't do that now," Maurus said easily. "I'm in charge. I have to act with dignity."

Mathias snorted.

"He, however, has nothing to stop him," Maurus added.

"It is going to be a long walk home, isn't it?" Wiven sighed, though his dreary resignation sounded feigned.

"Unless you want to fly," Widget, gesturing toward the zeppelins floating above the crater.

"Bad idea," Mathias said. "With his busy hands, he'll blow them up."

Wiven extinguished the flame and gave Mathias a look.

"Can't go," Maurus added as they began climbing out of the crater. Above, wind riders appeared, alighting on the rim of the zeppelin. "We need our waterboys."

"I'm older than the three of you combined," he said huffed. He sighed and added: "It  _is_ going to be a long way home.

He was right. Not three hours after they climbed out of the crater, word made its way through the camp they had visited what seemed like a lifetime ago: The Scourge was on the move.


	30. Epilogue

Chasing Through Hell

Epilogue

Maurus yawned. Arianna's warmth against his chest and the swaying of the kodo beneath him were making him drowsy and it was a good thing the evening air was chilly enough to counteract it. Not that he needed to be very alert. Around them were almost two hundred others, most of them Ragetotem tauren, while the rest were mostly trolls and orcs. Mathias and Gregar were the only forsaken in the group, but considering their destination, that was for the best. Even bringing the trolls was pushing it.

Nonetheless, Maurus took a deep breath of the chilly air and his nose filled the scent of grass, spring leaves and a heavy, but not unpleasant musty smell of mushrooms. He let out his breath in a sigh of pleasure, glancing at the enormous mushrooms that clung to the hillside to his left and the verdant greenery that surrounded them.

Arianna made a lazy inquiring sound.

"Just wondering at the change," he said.

Arianna hummed in agreement before answering. "My esteem for the Earthen Ring and the Cenarion Circle have grown enormously these years. Though they can't take all the credit."

Maurus nodded amiably. Despite the destruction the Cataclysm had wrought, it had also breathed life back into many desolate areas of the world and nature magic had grown immensely in potency with the elements running amok. It had died down again as the world recovered, but the Earthen Ring and the Cenarion Circle had managed to take advantage of the time they had been given, despite the fight against Deathwing's forces.

Still, Maurus had never thought he would ever enjoy a visit to the Eastern Plaguelands, or Eastweald, as he would have to get used to calling it. But he was. He even felt safe, though that also had a lot to do with the people around him, even if a third of them would be little use in a fight.

He smiled as a tauren girl ran out in front of the kodo, holding up a braided ring of flowers in her dark-skinned hand. Her eyes twinkled with mischief when a thin, wispy-haired elf boy came running after her, jumping to get at her upraised hand.

"Father, look what Teran made," Killi said, though her eyes remained on the boy.

"Don't- Give that back," her adopted brother cried, his voice an embarrassed whine. Small and spindly as he was, he had little chance of reaching the flowers, but he didn't let that stop him, trying again as Killi walked backwards along the kodo.

"It's not a bad flower crown," Arianna said pleasantly. "What's the matter, Dear?

Teran looked back, his reddened face half-shrouded by his long, thin hair. "Mathias said it's something little girls and besotted maidens made," he said, pouting.

"You should pay less attention to what he says. Humans and forsaken are odd," Maurus said wryly. He pointedly touched the small braid he had for a beard and tilted his head, jostling the braids his hair was now kept in. "It's a braid. I've braided my hair, my siblings' and parents' hair and your mother's hair. And I've braided the odd plant. And I can tell you, braiding flowers is hard. I usually just ruined them."

Teran blinked, his blush fading.

"Aaaw," Killi whined, lowering the flower crown so Teran could reach it. "You ruined it. Now I have to think of something else to tease him with."

"Something I'm sure you will have no trouble with," Arianna said lazily.

A smirk much like Arianna's appeared on Killi's face. "I know who'll like this," she said, taking off running.

Teran's eyes became round and frightened and he immediately followed Killi, shouting after her. They passed Maurus and Arianna and vanished back into the center of the crowd.

"They've been running around like that all day. Where do they get the energy?" Arianna asked lazily, stroking the hand Maurus held the reigns with.

Maurus shrugged. "Would that they keep it. It's never bad to have stamina."

At that, Arianna snorted and Maurus chuckled when he realized where her thoughts had gone. "They'll sleep well tonight, that's for sure," he said, stroking a finger down Arianna's belly.

"Getting ahead of ourselves again, aren't we?" Arianna said.

"That seems to be the pattern with us, doesn't it? We did begin years before the ceremonies."

"Now who's thinking like the humans?" Arianna teased. "Though even they couldn't fault us now. The ceremony in Mulgore does count."

Something grey and black made Maurus glance to the side to see Mathias come up at their side. His grey wolf barely made any sound on the gravel, though even a heavier tread would have been swallowed by the buzz of conversation and the noise of hooves and feet around them.

"Bother someone your own size," Maurus greeted his friend.

Mathias adopted a lazy and entirely unconvincing expression of innocence.

A little more seriously, Maurus continued: "Don't put human ideas into his head. It's bad enough that almost everyone his age is almost double his weight. He does not need more reasons to feel unmanly."

Mathias tilted his head and made a thoughtful sound. Then he shook his head. "Nah. He needs to bull through it."

Maurus snorted at the choice of words.

"Maybe," he allowed. His friend had something of a point, though Maurus was hoping his adopted son would find some strength in Silvermoon. Hopefully, being with his kin for a fortnight would give him a little perspective and get rid of the ridiculous insecurity he harbored despite his growing aptitude for feeling the Light and the spirits.

They rounded a giant mushroom and a glittering lake came into view. It was one of the Scars, now filled with water that was safe even to drink, amazing as that sounded. Glancing at the sinking sun to the east, Maurus grunted in satisfaction. He hadn't quite realized that they had made it that far, but an early stop suited him just fine.

When camp had been set up and the smell of food was beginning to fill the air, Maurus found himself standing at the edge of the Scar, staring down at his reflection. Even compared to others his age, he had few wrinkles, only the barest hint of crows feet but his scars marked the years almost as well. His muzzle was crooked from more than one heavy blow and there were several lines in his fur on the top of his head and the side of his face. His nose was still ugly, the cleft from his nose ring still making his nostrils almost one. But all the other scars paled compered to the ones he had gotten in Outland. Both cheeks had large scars where the fur had never quite grown back, revealing ugly scarring and he still thought he looked unbalanced without his horn.

He absently prodded at his missing teeth with his tongue. He was satisfied with the evidence of his history, proud of what he had endured and accomplished. And he was always relieved when he looked at himself and saw reddish-brown eyes rather than the pale blue glow he had seen when he had carried a frozen sword rather than his axe. Amazingly, he had forgiven himself for that time. The tauren he had been years ago would not have been able to do that, but he had changed. He would not forget, but he had matured enough to realize that there was no point in beating himself up over the past.

Beside his reflection, Arianna appeared, meeting his eyes in the water. She had her share of scars too, a crooked nose, scattered dents and most noticeably, her glowing eyes remained sunken, surrounded by red, lumpy heat-scarring.

As with his own scars, Maurus refused to see the scars as anything but marks of experience, even if his heart ached at the thought of where his supposed death had driven her. But she had not let the volatile mix of vengeance and her craft consume her completely, to some degree thanks to Mathias, Widget and the others and ultimately, she had recovered. Now the scars gave a wild edge to her fine features and with the brightness in her eyes and the curve of her lips, she was beautiful.

Maurus smiled, curling an arm around her.

"Brooding again?" Her tone was light, clearly not truly asking that question, but it was still an inquiry.

"Wondering again," Maurus answered amiably.

"Very thoughtful, lately."

Maurus shrugged. "Big events makes one think."

"It's just a show. Mulgore was binding and I hardly need the elven ceremony," Arianna responded. She glanced around, eyeing the tauren and trolls. "The party will be one to see though."

Maurus smirked. "True."

"Nervous?"

"No," Maurus said. It was almost true but he had never been to Quel'thalas nor met much of Arianna's House. With the Scourge Onslaught and the Cataclysm, there had been little time for social calls.

Seeing Arianna's raised eyebrow, he admitted: "A little bit."

"Do you see the bull I see?"

"Maybe. I am rather satisfied with whom I see. And the lovely little thing in his arms."

"Good," Arianna said firmly, stroking his arm. "It's just a wedding. We've had one already and that went fine."

"I seem to recall you being a little nervous too," Maurus murmured, thinking back fondly to how she had looked, for once attired in something very like traditional tauren garb. It had been a lovely ceremony and he was honestly looking forward to seeing the elven variant.

"Fine, you're right, it is understandable to be a little nervous," Arianna admitted. "Though I will assure you that there is no threat of torches and pitchforks. Nor of poison."

"Thank you," Maurus muttered dryly. "It's very reassuring that you thought it necessary to mention that."

"If they hadn't accepted it, they would just have pretended we didn't exist. Instead, we're having a feast with a couple of hundred people."

Maurus smiled softly.

"Being nervous does not mean I'm not looking forward to it, Love," he said, shifting his arm and turning so he was facing Arianna. "Finally seeing your home after all you've told me is worth a little discomfort. As is rubbing our relationship in the faces of your stupider relatives."

He bent down and kissed her, muzzle meeting lips that were far smaller than his. As different as he and she were, their kisses had never stopped being somewhat clumsy, messy affairs, but he would not trade them for the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to feel. I should feel accomplished, but it is a very mixed feeling ending this. This story marked the start of my attempts at writing fiction and now it is over. I am happy though.
> 
> Thank you, all who have read and in particularly everyone who have reviewed. I would love to hear what you think and in particular what you can say about the story as a whole, now that it's done. I would really like to hear what you think worked and what didn't. I think I might have thrown up too many things that never really got more screentime, like the traitors among the Horde and the fact that Dreadlords could impersonate people and disrupt in that case. But on the other hand, I am happy to have implied that a lot is going on and that Maurus and Arianna aren't the ones who have to solve all the problems they observe.
> 
> I know the cliffhanger in the previous chapter may have given the impression of another installment, but I'm done now. I want to focus the time and energy on original writing, despite how much I enjoy these characters. And the events I imply here are ones that I just don't think I can do justice without dedicating far more time and effort than I want now. That effort is something I want to put into original stories.
> 
> I might still post one-shot scenes here and there, but proper stories won't happen. Not having to think things through too much and not having a a larger arc might even make me write a bit more freely and so maybe get a few more scenes here and there with these, but no promises.
> 
> Again, a million thank yous to you all who have read my stories. It was a privilege to write for you and I will probably drop a line if I ever get something published.


End file.
